


The Airplane Song

by darkbluebox



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Doctor and Teacher, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romantic Comedy, moderate angst, upgraded from light to moderate angst by request lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 90,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkbluebox/pseuds/darkbluebox
Summary: Sawamura Daichi wakes up one morning to find himself in the life of a sitcom character, yet another item on the list of developments he never asked for. Also featured on said list: a devastatingly attractive doctor, an interfering amnesiac, a broken leg, a psychopath hiding in his bathtub, an unplanned ride in a police car, underwear in the sink and fruit smoothie dripping from his ceiling.He could go on.





	1. The One with the Doctor and his Patient

**Author's Note:**

> So about a year and a half ago I sat down to write a 3k drabble about Daichi having a crush on his Doctor.  
> Eighteen months and over 80k words later, here I am.  
> Oops.

Daichi liked to think that he was good at keeping a cool head. He really wasn’t one to scare easily, to panic at the first sign of trouble or run screaming for the hills as soon as life became difficult. He certainly didn’t go crying to the doctor’s practice every time he felt an ache or pain.

 

Unfortunately, his friend and teammate Kuroo had a way of _unsettling_ him.

 

If it hadn’t been for his butting in, Daichi would have been quite happy to ignore the jabbing pain in his chest. It would probably have gone away sooner or later, and anyway, their team had matches coming up. He had more important things to think about.

 

“What’s up with you? Feeling your age tonight?” Kuroo chucked the volleyball at Daichi’s head, his smirk as present as ever. Beside him, Kenma rolled his eyes but didn’t comment.

 

Daichi brought his hands up to catch it, flinching slightly. “Age jokes from the guy that’s older than me. Amazing. I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

 

The smirk slid from Kuroo’s face. “You’re not fine. You’re wincing.”

 

Daichi sighed. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Just a bit of pain around my chest when I move. Or talk. Or breathe.”

 

Kuroo raised an eyebrow.

 

“What? It’s nothing. Seriously.”

 

Kuroo continued to watch him, unimpressed.

 

“What?!”

 

“If you’re having trouble breathing, you should get it checked out.”

 

“You’re overreacting. Anyway, we have matches coming up. We should focus on that.”

 

“All the more reason to make sure you’re completely healthy and ready to kick the opposition’s ass.”

 

Daichi opened his mouth to protest, but Kenma cut him off. “Kuroo’s right.”

 

“See, even Kenma agrees! Seriously, go get it checked. God, do I need to hire a babysitter to look after you?”

 

It took a lot of Daichi’s self-control to resist aiming his next serve at the back of Kuroo’s head.

 

But as much as Kuroo irritated him, he ended up phoning the Doctor’s to make an appointment anyway. Damn Kuroo for making him so paranoid. It was only a little pain around his chest.

 

He was sitting in the Doctor’s waiting room, a thoroughly disgruntled mother bouncing a crying toddler on her lap to his left and an old lady who looked about ready to fall asleep on his shoulder to the right when his phone buzzed.

 

**Received: where are ya, Sawamura??**

**Sent: Will be late for practice. Give my apologies to the others.**

**Received: ???why???**

**Sent: At doctor’s.**

**Received: HAH. knew u would cave in 2 my obviously superior intelligence ;)**

**Sent: Thanks, MOTHER.**

**Received: Watch ur tone or ur grounded**

Daichi sighed. He was trying to shove his phone back into his pocket without disturbing the now-sleeping woman (starting to drool) when one of the receptionists entered.

 

“Sawamura Daichi to see Doctor Sugawara?” The tiny ginger man looked familiar to Daichi. Then it clicked – he was sure he taught the boy’s little sister in one of his classes. He smiled, and received a wobbly but familiar grin in return. Daichi rummaged through his mind for a family name that wouldn’t come. He gave up with a huff of breath.

 

“Just through here,” The boy squeaked. Daichi was lead down a corridor and into a small, brightly-lit office before the receptionist dashed out again without so much as a pause for breath. Daichi barely noticed the departure; his attention was fixed upon the doctor sitting at a desk before him.

 

If Daichi had been having trouble breathing before, it was even worse now. The man in front of him had knocked the air from his lungs.

 

“Ah! You must be Sawamura Daichi. My name’s Doctor Sugawara Koushi, but you can call me Suga if you like. I haven’t been at this practice very long so I don’t think we’ve met yet.” The grey-haired beauty before him extended a hand, which Daichi was almost too dumbstruck to shake. His desk, although piled with papers, showed no hint of chaos; every sheet, file, pen and pencil in its allocated place. A computer hummed away, the screen turned far enough towards Daichi for him to see his medical history displayed across it. There was very little to show.

 

“G-good to meet you,” Daichi stammered as his mouth caught up with his mind. “Please, call me Daichi.”

 

“Hi, Daichi! Please, take a seat. How can I help you today?” Daichi barely listened to what the doctor was saying, to busy taking in the eyes, the smile, the warmth… Daichi was glad he was at the doctor’s office, because he was pretty sure his heart was going to stop. This doctor was _beautiful_.

 

“I – uh, I’m having trouble breathing,” Daichi stuttered. It had never been a truer statement.

 

He had thought it was impossible for Suga to look any cuter, but he was proven wrong when his warm eyes filled with concern. Forget Daichi’s heart stopping, he was pretty sure that it had now melted entirely.

 

Suga began asking questions, which was unfortunate as Daichi felt as though he had left his brain in the waiting room. He stumbled through each answer, trying not to look like a total idiot, failing, and blushing all the while. Suga clipped a device onto his finger to measure something (Suga had explained it to him, but it was very hard to focus on what those lips were saying) and the brief contact of their hands did little to stop Daichi’s face growing even redder.

 

“Ah! Your oxygen levels are great! Ninety-nine percent! Wow, you’re very fit…” Suga looked almost flustered for a second, before regaining his composure. “I – I mean, you must have a very healthy lifestyle. Well done!” He beamed, and Daichi’s stomach twisted, probably struggling to digest so much _pure adorable_.  

 

“Well, uh, I’m a PE teacher at the local high school, so I get a lot of exercise…and I’m on a volleyball team.”

 

Suga’s eyes lit up. “Volleyball! Really? What position do you – uh, sorry, I’m getting off-topic. I need to listen to your chest now, so if you would mind removing your shirt…”

 

“Oh, uh…” Daichi wasn’t exactly shy, but removing his shirt in front of a complete stranger – a really, really cute stranger – was a little embarrassing. But Suga showed no sign of awkwardness, so he pulled his shirt over his head without complaint.

 

“Ok, when say so I need you to breathe in as deeply as you can.” Suga slid the earpieces of his stethoscope in, giving Daichi no warning before he pressed the cold metal chestpiece against his exposed skin. Daichi jumped a little at the contact, very aware of Suga’s long, slender fingers so close to his chest.

 

It took some serious self-control to stop his imagination going somewhere inappropriate at that point.  

 

“Breathe,” Suga instructed. He slid the cold metal from place to place on Daichi’s chest and then on his back, repeating the instruction with each movement. By the time he had finished Daichi’s skin was tingling.

“Well, you’re not dying, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Suga smiled, and Daichi let out a chuckle before wincing from the sudden movement.

 

“So what is it, then?”

 

“I think you’ve just pulled a muscle around your ribcage, perhaps while you were exercising. It’s likely that you just twisted a little oddly or something. Anyway, it will twinge for a while, especially when you move around, but it should heal itself up in no time.”

 

A memory flickered through Daichi’s mind – Kuroo putting him in a headlock, and Daichi twisting his body painfully in an effort to escape and retaliate – a pain he had thought little of at the time. He decided against sharing this realisation in favour of continuing his façade of a reasonable, mature adult. A reasonable, mature adult who was already plotting revenge, but hey, Kuroo had earned it.

 

“Thanks so much, Doctor – I mean, Suga.” The pair stood as Suga showed him to the door.

 

“Oh, it was nothing! Please, drop by any time – I mean, if there’s anything else bothering you…”

 

“Y-yeah! I’ll do that.” Why couldn’t Daichi stop himself from smiling around this man? It had to be some kind of witchcraft.

 

Even when he had left Suga’s room, wandering out past the secretaries (who gave him several bemused glances) he could still feel the idiotic grin plastered over his face.

 

***

 

Was it morally questionable to wish illness upon yourself so you would have an excuse to see your doctor?

 

That was the question Daichi asked himself as he stared absent-mindedly out of the window, noting that the sky was the exact shade same shade of grey as Suga’s hair.

 

He heard a very stupid noise from behind him.

 

“I know that look.” Kuroo smirked. “Someone’s in looooooove.”

 

“Kuroo,” Kenma scolded.

 

Daichi couldn’t even find the willpower to retort. Kuroo was an annoying bastard, but he was an insightful one.

 

 Daichi was screwed.

 

***

 

“India, huh?” The tiny receptionist with a lock of bleached hair nestled amongst the brown squinted at him over the desk, which was littered with crumpled balls of paper and chewed biros.

 

“Yeah. So I’ll need to get vaccinations before I go.”

 

“Hmm. Hey, you were in here last week, weren’t you? Seeing Suga?”

 

Daichi’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Suga’s name (God, he was in so deep) but he did his best to maintain his composure.

 

“Ah, yeah. But that was for something different.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should have thought to ask about what injections I might need then, but I wasn’t sure if I was going at the time.”

 

The truth of the matter was, Daichi doubted that he was going at all. The school trip for the senior pupils was only in the beginning of its planning stages, and they didn’t yet know which teachers would be chaperoning. Daichi, with his current level of travel experience set at next to nothing, was hardly among the top candidates. No, the truth of the matter was that this was a thinly-veiled excuse for Daichi to see his doctor again. His doctor, who he hadn’t been able to get out of his head in days.

 

“Well, he’s free just now, so you can go straight through…” Before he could finish the sentence, the ginger receptionist from last time appeared behind the guy’s shoulder. The name came to Daichi at last. Hinata. Natsu’s big brother.  

 

“I’ll show you the way again!” he squeaked. Daichi didn’t have time to ponder Hinata’s enthusiasm as the tiny man dashed out from behind the desk and lead him down a corridor.

 

They walked in silence for a few seconds before Hinata exploded. “Suga told me that you play volleyball!”

 

“Wh-yeah. I’m a wing spiker on the local team. Why-?”

 

“Spiker?!” He stared at Daichi as though he had discovered buried treasure. “That’s soooooo cool!”

 

Daichi chuckled. “Thanks. Hey, your sister’s on her school team, right? I teach her P.E. If you can jump even half as high as she can, you must be pretty good.”

 

Hinata made a noise between a squeak and a gulp. “Th-thanks! I love volleyball! Suga talks about it with me all the time! Oh, we’re at his room.”

 

He turned and dashed away, leaving Daichi standing at the door.

 

_Suga told me that you play volleyball!_

The words struck Daichi again, and this time he thought about the implications of what was, on the surface, a simple statement. Suga had been talking about him with someone. The knowledge that Daichi hadn’t just slipped from Suga’s mind the moment he left the room was enough to put a spring in his step as he opened the door and entered.

 

In the few seconds before he was noticed, Daichi was gifted with the view that was Suga chewing absent-mindedly on a pencil as he stared vacantly at his computer screen. He realised as the silence lengthened that he should probably have knocked.

 

When Suga noticed Daichi standing in the doorway, his pencil went flying as the less-than dignified doctor nearly fell backwards out of his chair.

 

“Da-Daichi!”

 

“Uh, hey.”

 

“I, uh…” Suga took a few seconds to right himself, looking, it seemed to Daichi, disproportionally flustered. “Hello again!”

 

“Hey. I, uh… I need to get some vaccinations. For a trip to India.”

 

“Oh! I see, exciting.” Suga tapped a few keys on his computer. Was it Daichi’s imagination, or was Suga avoiding eye contact? “Where in India are you going, precisely?” Suga pulled up a map on the screen, tilting it towards him to give him a better view.

 

_Shit._ Daichi wasn’t sure. Had that even been confirmed?

 

“Uh, we might be travelling around a bit. Visiting a few different places. Nowhere particularly dangerous, considering it’s a school trip.”

 

“Ah! You’re taking some of your P.E. students?”

 

Daichi started at that. He hadn’t expected Suga to remember that he was a teacher, let alone what subject he taught. “Yeah, the school normally runs an expedition each year for a few seniors. So they have something to put on university applications, you know? I guess I fancied being a chaperone for it this year.”

 

“That’s great! I’m sure you’ll have an amazing time.”

 

“As long as I don’t lose my temper and throw one of the students in the Ganges, I’m sure I will.”

 

Suga laughed at that, much to Daichi’s delight. “I’m sure you won’t! You seem like a good-tempered guy to me.” Suga flushed a little towards the end of the sentence.

 

Daichi grinned. “Well, you haven’t seen my teacher side. I can get pretty intimidating if a student steps out of line.”

 

Suga chuckled again. “I’d like to see that!” His eyes immediately widened in shock, as if trying to wish the words back into his mouth.

 

“Uh-?” Daichi began.

 

“Vaccinations!”  Suga interrupted, suddenly eager to change the subject. “Let’s have a look…”

 

The following few minutes was a jumble of disease names and locations and risks, almost enough to put Daichi off traveling forever.

 

“…so I think you’ll want to be vaccinated for rabies, hep A and hep B at the least…” Suga broke off when he caught sight of Daichi’s face. “Don’t look so worried! It sounds pretty scary when you’re sitting around talking over all the risks, but once you get there everything’s fine. I felt the same when I was getting vaccinated for Malawi.”

 

“You’ve been to Africa?”

 

“Oh, yeah!” Suga suddenly seemed shy, as if not used to talking about himself. “Doctors Without Borders. I spent a year volunteering before I came here.”

 

“Wow.” Daichi could picture Suga all too clearly, treating sick kids living in poverty in a far-away country, striving to make a difference. Of _course._ It made sorting out Daichi’s chest pains and vaccinations look tame by comparison. He was probably boring Suga to death.

 

Daichi was so lost in this train of thought that he didn’t notice Suga busying around him.

 

“Ready?”

 

Daichi looked up and a shot of fear ran through him. That was a very big needle. Daichi hadn’t had an injection in _years_ , but looking at the needle caused memories of childhood hospital visits to resurface, and the next thing he knew he was breaking out in a cold sweat.

 

It seemed that Daichi really _hated_ injections.

 

“Are – are you alright, Daichi? You’ve gone awfully pale.”

 

Daichi made a noise that was embarrassingly close to a squeak.

 

“Oh. Don’t like needles much, huh?” Suga’s voice was gentle and sympathetic. It soothed Daichi’s nerves, but did little for the crushing embarrassment which was sweeping over him.

 

“Apparently not,” Daichi grunted, eyeing the accursed object as though it had personally offended him.

 

“Best to get it over with quickly, then.” Suga smiled, dabbing something onto Daichi’s arm before sticking the needle in.

 

Daichi yelped in surprise, all dignity gone. He refused to look at the needle, but that didn’t stop him feeling the liquid pushing its way into his arm.   

 

“Sorry about that.” Suga withdrew the needle at last, prompting a wince from Daichi. “I find it best to just get it done as quickly as possible when the patient is a little nervous.” He put his hand reassuringly on Daichi’s shoulder. “Alright?”

 

Daichi now had an aching arm and fried nerves, but the feeling of Suga’s hand on his shoulder and his warm eyes meeting Daichi’s meant that Daichi couldn’t be anything but happy. “I’m good.” He smiled up at Suga.

 

“Excellent!” Suga beamed. “So when you get your booster injections done, you won’t be nervous at all!”

 

_Boosters?!_

***

 

Boosters, it turned out, meant going to the local travel clinic twice more over the coming months to get even _more_ injections.

 

Daichi wasn’t happy. He would have to get stabbed in the arm _again_ , and next time Suga wouldn’t even be there to make the whole ordeal worthwhile. Yet when he left Suga’s office, it was not with a sense of total dejection.

 

“Mind if I follow you out?” The voice behind Daichi made him jump. “My coffee break just started.”

 

“S-sure.” Daichi fought back a grin as Suga accompanied him back down the long corridor to reception.

 

Suga didn’t immediately disappear into the staff room but instead paused at the receptionist’s desk to chat with Hinata and a large doctor with his hair tied up in a bun. This allowed Daichi to watch Suga slyly as he noted down the details for booster vaccinations. He took the time to note tiny actions that would normally go unnoticed. It was infuriating, how effortless it was to be attracted to Suga. Even the way he wrinkled his nose when he smiled was enough to make Daichi’s stomach flip.

 

Daichi’s skin prickled as he realised that he was being watched.

 

The smaller of the two receptionists (whose ID badge read _Nishinoya_ ) had his eyes fixed upon Daichi in a manner that was borderline intimidating. His eyes moved slowly between Daichi and Suga, and Daichi could see the cogs spinning in his mind. At last he broke into a grin. “Oh! So it’s _you_!”

 

“Uh, what?”

 

“Ah, nothing!” He clapped Daichi on the shoulder cheerfully. “Nothing at all. Do come back soon!”

 

Which, it seemed to Daichi, was a very odd thing to say at a Doctor’s practice.


	2. The One With the Punch to the Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo Tetsurou, human disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol Trigger Warning. 
> 
> I can pinpoint the exact moment in this chapter where I lost all control over this fic, and by extension, my life.

“So when are you going to introduce us?” Kuroo nudged Daichi playfully with a bony elbow, smirking. After a long practice session the changing room was refreshingly cool, and Daichi’s mind had been happily drifting until Kuroo’s words brought him back to earth. Kenma was seated beside them, already changed, a PSP claiming most of his attention.

 

“Huh?” Daichi blinked, his gormlessness earning a snort from Kuroo.

 

“The girl you’ve been mooning over.” Kuroo’s smirk widened. “Obviously.”

 

Ah. A reminder of a conversation with Kuroo he was yet to have. Daichi hadn’t been avoiding it, as such. His dating life over the past few years had been, well… non-existent was a cruel word. Nonetheless, it had never seemed all that relevant.

 

“I haven’t been _mooning_.” Daichi scowled. “And anyway, you still haven’t told me who _you’ve_ been dating.” 

 

Kuroo spluttered, and behind him Kenma’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his fingers stalling over the buttons. The console emitted a sad whine, and the words _Game Over_ flashed across the screen.

 

Kuroo’s eyes were wide. “Who told you I was-?!”

 

Daichi burst out laughing. “You just did.”

 

Kuroo fell silent, his face red.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Daichi clapped him on the shoulder. “Bring her along to practice sometime. Anyone with willpower strong enough to put up with you has to be worth meeting.”

 

“Rude!” Kuroo hurled his top at Daichi’s head, prompting another burst of laughter.

 

 Daichi was too busy chuckling to notice Kenma raise his eyebrow questioningly at Kuroo, and the shrug he received in return.

 

“Yeah. I’ll bring her along sometime.” The humour in Kuroo’s voice was replaced by a more serious tone. Daichi, too, fell silent, trying to sense the reason for the sudden shift in mood.

 

“Ok. Good.” He began shoving his stuff into his bag, unsettled.

 

“But,” Kuroo continued. “You have to bring _your_ friend too. So it’s fair.”

 

“Right. Yeah. I’ll see you next practice.” Daichi sensed the abrupt end to the conversation was anything but sly, but in addition to Kuroo’s odd behaviour, he could now feel Kenma’s gaze upon him too, and that alone was enough to send shivers down his spine. “Later.”

 

“Later.” Kuroo’s expression was unreadable, and Kenma’s gaze had once more returned to his game. Daichi shook his head and banished the unease from his mind. It was probably nothing.

 

As he left the changing room, his mind was, as was often the case these days, occupied with his doctor.

 

***

 

“But seriously! How did he guess?” Kuroo ran a hand through his hair in irritation, worsening the mess that was his bed-hair. Kenma shrugged disinterestedly.

 

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much.”

 

“He must be psychic or something.” Kuroo wandered up and down the length of the changing room, now empty but for the two of them. “Have you seen my shirt anywhere, Kenma?”

 

Kenma looked up, before letting out a tiny snort.

 

“What?!” Kuroo wrinkled his nose in irritation.

 

“Well, I know how he guessed.” Kenma’s eyes rested upon a spot above Kuroo’s collarbone. “You shouldn’t wander around without your shirt on if you don’t want people to spot your hickeys.”

 

Kuroo spluttered for a second, before dashing away to check himself in the changing room mirror. “Dammit!”

 

Kenma followed Kuroo until he was standing at the other’s back, watching him examine himself in the mirror.

 

“This is your fault,” Kuroo grumbled, fingers probing the light bruise.

 

“Fine. I won’t leave any, next time.”

 

“Hey, I never said I wanted _that_.” Kuroo smirked. Kenma grinned back.

 

***

 

Daichi was getting desperate. Or at least, _more_ desperate. He had gotten _injected_ for this guy. _Injected._ Yet he still hadn’t gotten up the nerve to do… _anything_ , really.

 

He needed to take action.

 

Which meant _doing_ something. But what? He couldn’t just turn up at the doctor’s practice for no reason at all. That would be creepy. Or at least, creepier than he was already being.

 

But at the same time, Daichi couldn’t just sit around and wait for himself to fall ill or whatever (which could take forever – he prided himself on his good health after all) but he had to find a reason to go back to the practice. He could feel the pull Suga had upon him as though the man were a magnet. He had to meet him again.

 

He explained this – minus minor details, such as Suga’s gender – to Kuroo over a beer a few days later. The other nodded sympathetically, even managing not to smirk until Daichi finished his tale of woe.

 

“Sounds like you’re in deep.” Kuroo sipped his beer, watching in amusement as Daichi lowered his head onto the bar with a soft thump.

 

“What about you, then?” Daichi muttered into the bar. “This girl that’s put you in such a nice mood lately.”

 

“What are you talking about? I’m always this nice.”

 

Daichi snorted, raising his head to make eye contact.

 

“That look is uncalled for.” Kuroo took another sip.

 

“Seriously, though. How’s it going?”

 

Kuroo sighed. His expression was – not a word Daichi often used in relation to Kuroo – _soft._

“I like hi – her. A lot.”

 

“Sounds serious.” Daichi wondered how long Kuroo had been seeing this girl without telling him, before deciding it didn’t matter. Kuroo wasn’t obligated to share every detail of his private life - after all, Daichi certainly didn’t.

 

“I dunno. It’s complicated.” Kuroo stared into his glass.

 

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

 

Kuroo groaned. “Maybe, I mean-”

 

“Do you love her?”

 

Kuroo coughed violently, and Daichi had to slam him on the back a few times.

 

“Is that a yes, then?”

 

This time it was Kuroo’s turn to smack his head onto the bar with a sigh. “Looks like it.”

 

“Then what’s the problem?” Daichi laughed, clapping his friend on the back. “Congrats!”

 

“I… I don’t know if h- if _she_ feels the same. Like… we agreed that we were just messing around! It was never meant to be serious! But now… there’s _feelings_ …”

 

“Ah.” Daichi sobered up immediately. “I see. So you haven’t told her?”

 

“No! What if she doesn’t feel the same way?!”

 

Daichi shrugged. “You’ll never know until you ask, man. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

 

Kuroo growled. “You’re no help.”

 

“Neither are you. Another drink?”

 

***

 

It was many, many drinks later when Daichi had what was, according to his alcohol-hazed mind, probably the best idea of his entire life.

 

“Kuroo! Kuroo!” He shook Kuroo’s shoulder, and Kuroo cracked one eye open, his gaze unfocused.

 

“Mmmmhhmmmm?”

 

“Y’know how I need an excuse t’go back to the doctor’s?”

 

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuh yeah?”

 

“I need you to punch me! In the face!”

 

Kuroo eyed him with growing interest. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

***

 

Daichi had never been kicked out of a bar before, and was more than a little indignant. Sure, he had _told_ Kuroo to punch him, but he hadn’t actually been the one to swing his fist, had he?

 

Either way, the bartender was having none of it, so now they were on the street. The night air was pleasantly cooling against Daichi’s bloodied and aching face, and when he looked up with his nose pinched between his fingers the moon was shining brightly above.

 

“I think you broke m’nose. I didn’t ask you to do that,” he grumbled.

 

“Hey, you gave me a free pass to _punch you_. You don’t hold back when an opportunity like _that_ comes along.”

 

The pair stumbled along the street for a while, trying to lean on each other yet at the same time pretending they weren’t.

 

“Daichi?” A voice called from the dark. Daichi swung around, blinking. He recognised that voice. The figure he found illuminated by a streetlight was equally familiar, staring across the road with raised eyebrows.

 

“No way! Kuroo! Kuroo, look, that’s SUGA!” He nudged his friend, whose head was drooping.

 

“I don’t have sugar in m’coffee. I’m just… gonna take a seat.” Kuroo slumped to a sitting position on the kerb.

 

“It’s Suga!” Daichi beamed. “Suga’s great! Hi, Suga!” The doctor was making his way across the road towards them, wearing an expression caught between concern and amusement.

 

“Are you ok? There’s blood on your face.”

 

“Ah.” Daichi swayed on his feet. “Don’t worry, that was just Kuroo.” He gestured to where Kuroo sat staring vacantly across the street. “It’s ok. I asked him to punch me.”

 

“Right.” Suga looked adorable when he was confused, Daichi decided.

 

“D’chi.” Kuroo mumbled. “Need to set off home. Kenma’ll be wondering where ‘m at.”

 

Daichi wasn’t listening, too busy staring at Suga in a very un-sly manner. He didn’t look away as he heard Kuroo moving off, too intent on staring at Suga’s lips. They looked so pretty. Like the rest of him.

 

Daichi took a step forwards, tripping and falling gracelessly into Suga’s arms.

 

“Wohah! Careful!” Suga said breathlessly. “How much have you had to _drink_ , Daichi?”

 

“Kuroo’s fault. Bad influence.”

 

“Ah yes, he does seem to be good at getting you into trouble. Come on, I’ll help you get home.”

 

“So nice, Suga. So sweet. Heh, gettit? Sweet. Like sugar.”

 

“Brilliant, Daichi. I’ve never heard _that_ one before.”

 

The pair walked onwards, Suga supporting Daichi’s weight and Daichi enjoying the warmth of Suga pressed to his side, and the smell of tea and vanilla which seemed to follow him.

 

***

 

When Daichi awoke, it was with a raging headache, an aching nose and a gaping hole in his memory where his recollections of the night before should have been.

 

It was his own fault, really. He should have learned by now that Kuroo and bars usually ended in disaster.

 

When he stumbled onto his feet at last, the view in the mirror that greeted him was that of a dishevelled man in rumpled clothes with a nose that was _not_ the same shape as it had been the day before.

 

“What the…” He raised a finger to poke it, before immediately regretting his decision. “Ow. Ow. Hurts.”

 

When he made his way into the kitchen, snapping on the light and blinking in pain, he found a note pinned to his fridge.

 

“ _Morning :) Hope your nose doesn’t hurt too much, it didn’t look too bad last night but I would get an appointment to get it checked properly just in case. Hope you’re enjoying your hangover! ^_^_

_P.S. I may have fed your fish.”_

Daichi squinted at the note in confusion. It certainly wasn’t Kuroo’s handwriting. Far too legible. And Kuroo would be more likely to eat Daichi’s fish than feed them.

 

Who had he let into his apartment?

 

Daichi’s gut twisted as panic took root. Had he slept with someone? No. He was sure he would remember _that_. Besides, he was still wearing last night’s clothes.

 

Daichi wasn’t in the habit of listening to mysterious notes, but all the same he rang the doctor’s and asked for an appointment. His nose really did hurt – and he wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to see Suga, after all.

 

***

 

When he walked into the doctor’s practice later that day, significantly less hungover and a little more suitably dressed, the secretary – Nishinoya, if he remembered rightly – took one look at him and burst out laughing.

 

This laughter was silenced when Daichi gave him a look usually reserved for his more troublesome students.

 

“Ah, Doctor Suga can see you now.” Nishinoya choked down a laugh. As Daichi turned to head down the corridor he now knew so well he heard a shout. “Shouyou! Asahi! I was right, you guys owe me!”

 

Daichi didn’t stop to ponder it as he wandered sheepishly into Suga’s office. Unlike last time, Suga didn’t seem surprised to see Daichi.

 

“Thought I would see you in here.” He smiled. “Let’s take a look at that nose.”

 

Daichi frowned in puzzlement as Suga immediately set upon prodding and poking his face. He tried and failed to avoid wincing.

 

“Why did you say you were expecting me?” Daichi mumbled, ignoring his discomfort.

 

“You don’t remember?” Suga straightened up. Daichi shook his head.

 

“Remember what?”

 

There was something in Suga’s expression that Daichi couldn’t quite identify.

 

“I bumped into you last night. You were with a friend, but you were clearly pretty drunk, so I made sure you got home safely. I left a note.”

 

“Uuh… you’re the one who fed my fish?”

 

Suga’s normally pale complexion reddened.  “You really don’t remember anything?”

 

“No… I don’t even remember this.” Daichi pointed at his nose. “Any ideas?”

 

“Ah. You did say something about that. You said you told your friend to do it.”

 

Daichi stared at Suga, who shrugged wordlessly.

 

“Did this friend have bad hair and an annoying grin?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Ah.” Something slid into place. “I think I remember…” Suga’s eyes followed him intently.

 

Daichi groaned. “I made an idiot of myself, didn’t I?”

 

“How much do you remember?” Suga’s expression remained unnaturally guarded.

 

“Uh… I was at the bar. Then I was walking home with Kuroo…”

 

_Need to set off home. Kenma’ll be wondering where ‘m at._

That was odd. How long had Kuroo and Kenma been flat-sharing? He filed that question under “conversations to have later”.

 

“I remember bumping into you, and you helped me get home…”

 

Suga’s gaze became so intense that Daichi began to feel nervous. What was he forgetting? “Sorry, that’s all I remember. Did anything else happen?”

 

“Oh, n–no, nothing.” There was a tightness to Suga’s voice, an emotion Daichi couldn’t identify. “That’s about it, really.”

 

“Oh. Well, thank you. For looking after me.”

 

Suga chuckled. “I’m a doctor. It’s what I do.”

 

The rest of the appointment was passed with Suga checking Daichi’s breathing and bones, interspersed with light conversation. Unlike their other sessions, however, the casual chat felt almost forced. There was something Suga wasn’t telling him.

 

And it was driving Daichi _nuts_.

 

“Right! Your nose is fine, no re-alignment needed. You’ll be playing volleyball again in no time.”

 

“Good to hear.” Daichi smiled.

 

“Well, you’re my last appointment for today, so I hope you don’t mind if I follow you out again?”

 

“No problem.” Then, on the spur of the moment, because he knew if he didn’t say something now he never would, “I actually have volleyball practice right after this appointment.”

 

“Oh?” Suga was removing his white Doctor coat and throwing it over the back of his chair, revealing a tight shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight did something very pleasant to Daichi’s stomach, something that nipped.

 

“Maybe you should come along.”

 

Suga froze, his eyes meeting Daichi’s.

 

“I – I mean, only if you want to! I just thought, because you seemed interested last time I mentioned-”

 

“I’d love to,” Suga whispered, watching Daichi with an expression close to wonder. “I-I mean.” He flushed red. “That sounds great! Just… give me the address and I’ll come right after I run back to my place to get changed…”

 

“Great!” Once more, as always happened around Suga, Daichi found himself unable to stop grinning.

 

***

 

When Daichi wandered into the gym with a misshapen nose, Kuroo didn’t even try to hold back his laughter. “Oh man, I got you good!”

 

“Kuroo, please tell me you didn’t do that.” Kenma studied Daichi’s nose with vague horror.

 

“Eeh, no comment.” Kuroo slung his arm around Kenma’s shoulders, grinning.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Daichi allowed himself a grin. “It was kind of worth it, anyway.”

 

“Ohoh? You end up seeing your doctor again, huh?”

 

“Yeah. You’ll be meeting them soon, I guess.”

 

Kuroo’s eyes lit up. “You invited her to practice?”

 

“Y-yeah. Although just as friends, I think…I haven’t exactly brought up, uh, dating yet.” Daichi hesitated. “But before you meet my doctor, there’s something you should know…”

 

“Daichi!”

 

He turned to see Suga, grinning nervously at the entrance to the hall. He had changed out of his work clothes, instead wearing a plain white tee and shorts, and his trainers squeaked as he jogged across the gym to join them.

 

“Hey, Suga.” Daichi smiled back. He turned to face Kuroo and Kenma, who were watching with wide eyes.

 

“This is Suga, my doctor. Suga, you’ve met Kuroo already – he’s as much of an idiot sober as he is drunk, and this is Kenma, our setter.”

 

Suga shook hands with the other two. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Kuroo’s face was momentarily frozen, and Daichi’s heart thudded in his chest. Then Kuroo broke into a grin. “So, you’ve played volleyball before?”

 

Thankfully, if there was one thing Suga could talk about, it was volleyball. Daichi could feel the tension lifting as the conversation turned to teams and positions.

 

“Sorry I didn’t give you more warning.” Daichi apologised to Kuroo as they later began warming up.

 

“It’s fine.” Kuroo clapped him on the shoulder. “Just unexpected, man. You never _said_!”

 

“I know! I know, I’m sorry.”

 

“Ah, I forgive you. Mainly because of your _excellent_ taste. He’s _pretty_. And he likes volleyball, too!”

 

“I better watch myself. You’ll be going after him next!”

 

“Nah, I got someone of my own.” Kuroo glanced over to where Kenma and Suga were stretching. “Wow. He’s talking to Kenma.”

 

“That’s not so odd.”

 

“Kenma’s talking back.”

 

If Daichi hadn’t been impressed by Suga before, he certainly was now. Getting Kenma to talk was a triumph in itself, yet the pair seemed to be deep in conversation.  

 

The team seemed pleased to have another setter around to help with drills. Daichi couldn’t help but smile to himself. Setter – that position fitted Suga down to ground. His natural ability to connect with everyone would serve him well in a team sport.

 

The team split into halves, Kenma setting to one side and Suga to the other. Daichi found himself admiring Suga – it was clear that he was an experienced setter. Yet his skill as a player wasn’t the only thing Daichi found himself admiring. His arms and legs were slim yet muscular, and Suga moved swiftly yet calmly in time with each member of the team, his technique showing no sign of slipping.

 

Daichi was so mesmerised watching Suga’s movements as he tossed the ball again and again that, when his turn came, he was almost too distracted to run forward.

 

He jogged towards the net, synchronising with the ball, with the toss – with Suga. The toss was perfectly timed, and felt right against Daichi’s hand. He slammed it to the ground with a satisfying whack.

 

“Brilliant, Daichi!” Suga beamed, and Daichi’s insides promptly turned to mush.

 

Kuroo smirked at them from the other side of the gym.

 

“Sawamura’s smitten,” he muttered to Kenma.

 

“He’s not the only one,” Kenma replied.

 

“Eh – wha-?” Kuroo’s face burned red. Kenma didn’t know, did he? How could he-?

 

“Suga likes Daichi, too.”

 

“Oh. Right.” Kuroo’s eyes turned back to the pair on the other side of the room. “How do you know?”

 

“I can tell.”

 

Kuroo didn’t turn around, but the prickly feeling on the back of his neck told him that Kenma was watching him.

 

***

 

“That was really fun! I had forgotten how much I loved volleyball.” Suga pulled his top up over his head, and Daichi immediately averted his eyes. A sweaty, shirtless Suga was more than his system could handle.

 

“You should come again.” Kenma’s voice was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Suga smiled down at the smaller man without showing any sign of surprise.

 

“I’d really like to.” He glanced at Daichi. “If that’s ok?”

 

“Oh, uh, sure, why wouldn’t it be?” Daichi fumbled. “I mean – I’d like that.” He heard Kuroo’s snickers in the background, and silently cursed his choice of friends.

 

Suga lived in a different direction from the other three, so the walk home for Daichi was spent mostly with Kuroo and Kenma.

 

“So, are you going to ask him out?” Kuroo jumped as soon as Suga was out of earshot. “Because, not that I’m one to talk you into things-” Daichi interrupted him with a snort “-but you should nab him quickly, before someone else gets him.”

 

Daichi chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it. But enough about _my_ love life…” He didn’t notice Kuroo visibly tense. “What about _yours_? Have you told your friend that you love her yet?”

 

Kuroo made a noise not unlike a squeak, stopping dead in the street. Kenma turned to look at him, eyes wide.

 

“I, uh…” Kuroo stood like an animal caught in a trap.

 

Daichi looked between Kuroo’s panicked expression and Kenma’s shocked one, before it suddenly clicked into place. “Oh shit.”

 

“You…” Kenma’s voice was soft. “…love me?”

 

Kuroo’s mouth hung open, all words gone.

 

Daichi wished he could sneak away, be anywhere but here. He was intruding on a _very_ private moment which he was entirely the cause of.

 

“Kenma…” Kuroo stuttered at last. He reached his hand out. Kenma gasped, flinched away, before bolting off down the street.

 

“KENMA!” Kuroo yelled after him.

 

“Shit,” Daichi whispered again. “Shit Kuroo, I’m so sorry-”

 

“Shut up!” Kuroo snapped, eyes watering. “Just – you’ve ruined it, ok, you’ve ruined everything, go fuck yourself.” Kuroo, too, bolted, leaving Daichi alone in the street.

 

Daichi put a hand to his head and groaned. _Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Pulls out Daisuga fic trope bingo card* *uncaps pen* *scores out "Suga name pun"* *sobs gently*
> 
> To those who came for the Kuroken tag: *finger guns*
> 
> I have no excuses tbh.


	3. The One Where Suga Tries to Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kozume Kenma never asked for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunication is overused but it's the only plot device I know. You can rip it from my cold dead hands, buddy-o.
> 
> Get wrekt, Daichi.

“…and he hasn’t picked up his phone in _days_. I’ve never known him like this, and we’ve been friends since university.”

 

Suga smiled reassuringly across the table as Daichi spoke.

 

“I just don’t know what to do.” For a moment their conversation lulled in the midst of the clatter of crockery and pleasant chatter of the café. The place was warm without being stuffy, and the smell of a dozen different beverages blending together in the air was worth coming for alone.

 

“Hmm.” Suga poured a teaspoon of sugar into his tea and began stirring it thoughtfully. “Maybe… maybe you don’t need to do anything. Not yet.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well… Kuroo only yelled at you like that because he was worried about his relationship with Kenma.”

 

“Yeah, which I ruined!”

 

“Not necessarily.”

 

“He found out Kuroo loved him and bolted.”

 

“Hmm.” Suga watched him over the rim of his mug as he sipped at his tea. “Love is a peculiar thing. It makes people do peculiar things. But if it’s meant to work out then it will. And if it isn’t then it won’t. There’s nothing you can do about that.”

 

“It’s still my fault.”

 

Suga placed his hand over Daichi’s, leaning forwards to look him in the eye.  “You didn’t know. It can’t be helped.”

 

“Yeah.” Daichi tried and failed to ignore the backflips his heart was performing in his chest. “It’s just…upsetting, I guess.”

 

Suga nodded attentively.

 

“But that’s enough about my problems.” Daichi shook his head. “I’m so sorry, I just unloaded everything onto you! We’re supposed to be _relaxing_.”

 

That had, after all, been the premise for their meeting. They had agreed upon a midweek coffee (or tea, in Suga’s case) to unwind, both taking a break from jobs that were by no means calming. Daichi still hadn’t quite been brave enough to call it a date. He would, sooner or later – but at the moment he was simply enjoying Suga’s company. Besides, the Kuroo-Kenma drama was eclipsing everything else in his life for the time being.  

 

“Don’t apologise!” Suga laughed airily. “If talking things over helps you relax, then go for it. I’m happy to help.”

 

Daichi smiled. “So sweet, Suga!”

 

“ _Don’t_ start that again.” He chuckled, reaching to brush his hair behind his ear with one hand. Daichi watched, wondered if Suga’s hair felt as soft as it looked.  

 

 “Well, I’ve talked enough, I think. It’s definitely your turn.”

 

“Hmmm?” Suga sipped his tea thoughtfully. “What do you want to know?”

 

“Anything.” Daichi leaned back in his chair. “Tell me whatever you want. What’s going on in your life?”

 

Suga looked out the window pensively for a few moments, watching the pedestrians strolling past. The sun shone through the glass, casting warm light over the pair. Daichi studied the man in front of him who he could easily describe as _glowing_.

 

“Well…” Suga began at last. “Something interesting _has_ happened recently.”

 

“Oh?” Daichi leaned forwards.

 

Suga made eye contact and held it. “Well… there’s someone who has been coming into the doctor’s practice a lot lately. I like them. I _think_ they like me, too. It’s getting a little out of hand. My colleagues are convinced we’re going to end up dating. They’ve started a betting pool for it.”

 

“Ah.” Daichi forced his expression to remain neutral, but internally he felt as though he was being stabbed in the gut. Of course Suga was involved with someone else. How could Daichi have expected otherwise from someone like him? He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the conversation ahead. “That sounds really good. So have you asked them out?”

 

Suga’s eyes flashed with what looked like confusion. “N…no. I’m not _sure_ that they like me.”

 

“Of course they do!” Daichi failed to hide the incredulity in his voice. “Why wouldn’t anyone like you?” He coughed awkwardly. “I – I mean… because you’re so… Y’know? I don’t see how anyone couldn’t like you.”

 

Suga’s eyes were still fixed upon his, and Daichi was beginning to feel a little unnerved.

 

“You think so?” he asked softly. Daichi squirmed.

 

“Well, you won’t know until you ask. That’s the best advice I can give.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

There was a brief pause.

 

“So, Daichi…do _you_ like someone?”

 

Daichi froze, feeling a blush run from his neck up to his cheeks. There was no way he could tell Suga now. Oh God. He had to lie. He was a _terrible_ liar.

 

“Me? I, uh…” Daichi wriggled under Suga’s expectant gaze. “No. Nobody, really.”

 

Something flickered in Suga’s expression, before his eyes hardened.

 

“I see.” He stood up, dropping a few coins onto the table. “I should be going.”

 

“What? We have practice later, aren’t you coming again?”

 

“I’m sorry. Not tonight.” There was a slight tremor to Suga’s voice, and he refused to meet Daichi’s eyes. He turned and walked briskly out of the shop.

 

“Suga? Hey, Suga, wait!” Daichi called after him, but Suga gave no indication that he had heard.

 

Daichi turned back to his mug of coffee, which was almost empty. What had he done wrong _now_?

 

***

 

“It’s just… I was so sure.” Suga flopped down on Asahi’s couch. His co-worker and best friend squished himself onto the end, handing Suga a mug of tea. Suga often thought that Asahi needn’t bother prescribing medicines and treatments. If he could just dispense his earl grey to the masses, Suga was convinced that he could bring the medical industry to its knees, ironically putting the pair of them out of work in the process.

 

“He’s clearly a dick, Suga. You don’t need him.” Noya bounded onto his boyfriend’s lap, eliciting a slight _oof_ from the larger man. The battered old couch creaked under their combined weight. Everything in Asahi and Noya's flat was ancient or falling to pieces, just like the building itself. Despite several gentle suggestions from Suga, the pair had yet to find the time and energy needed to hunt out better accomodation. Suga had counted at least a dozen health and safety faults and concerns - the most concerning being an apparent lack of functioning fire sprinklers throughout the entire building - but even watching neighbour after neighbour move in search of better digs leaving half the block empty hadn't been enough to spur them on. But as long as they still had means of making a good cup of tea, Suga wouldn't bring it up too much. 

 

“But he _isn’t_ a dick. That’s the problem. He’s kind. Funny. Dependable, you know?”

 

Noya rested his head on his boyfriend’s chest, his eyes following Suga, caught somewhere between sympathy and concern. Asahi began threading his fingers through the smaller man’s hair, staring thoughtfully at the wall opposite. Suga fought down the twist of jealousy rising in his stomach. Not that he was jealous of Asahi or Noya specifically – he loved them both, but not like that _._ But with his stint in Africa and the pressures of his job, it had been a long time since he had...well. His hopes for Daichi had been high, but he had made it pretty obvious. He wasn’t interested in Suga. And why would he be? Suga was nothing special.      

 

“Maybe I was just reading into things too much. Seeing things that weren’t there because I wanted to.”

 

Noya narrowed his eyes. “Such as?”

 

“Just… things.” Suga had a specific example in mind, but he wasn’t quite ready to discuss that particular incident yet. “But all the same, it’s pretty clear he isn’t interested.”

 

“Then, as I said, he’s a dick.”

 

Asahi nudged Noya. “Hey. Be nice.”

 

“That _was_ me being nice. If I wasn’t being nice I would have called him a-”

 

Suga cleared his throat loudly. “Thanks, Noya. I get your point.”

 

Asahi tilted his head to one side with worry in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re alright, Suga?”

 

“I’m fine, I swear. It’s not a big deal, I’m just a little disappointed. And running out of tea.”

 

Asahi chuckled. “Well, I can fix one of those at least.” Noya refused to relinquish his grip as Asahi struggled to his feet, and ended up hanging around Asahi’s neck like a monkey. Asahi sighed. “Fine. I’ll just have to make tea with you hanging there, will I?” The pair giggled as Asahi stumbled off into the kitchen, and Suga watched them go with a heavy heart.

 

He had let himself get carried away, looking for hope in a man he barely knew.

 

He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

 

***

 

Volleyball practice was quiet. Not that there were many people absent – the usual team was more or less present – but without Suga there was a missing spark of something Daichi couldn’t describe.

 

Suga, however, wasn’t the only absence Daichi felt.

 

When Kuroo slammed into the hall seconds before they were due to start, Daichi was struck by how unusual it had become to see him without Kenma trailing in his wake. Which brought Daichi back to _oh, yeah, your love life isn’t the only one you’ve ruined_.

 

He opened his mouth, but didn’t get the chance to speak.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it, ok? I just want to play volleyball.”

 

“Right.” That was one thing Daichi could understand. When life got you down, there was nothing like slamming a ball around to pick up your spirits.

 

The pair worked in silence, pushing their bodies to the limit and each venting their frustration a little at a time. It was only when they were walking home that Kuroo spoke again. “He’s staying over at a friend’s. To “think things through”.”

 

Daichi bit his lip. _Think things through_ didn’t sound like a good sign. “And how do you feel?”

 

Kuroo growled. “Pissed. And tired. And…” He swallowed. “I miss him.”

 

Daichi nodded. Kuroo glanced over at him before turning his gaze to the pavement. He kicked a pebble across the street, scuffing his sneakers as he did so, and breathed out heavily through his nose. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you, okay? It’s my fault for not telling you it was Kenma in the first place.” Kuroo broke off. “Look, I need a friend right now, so can we just…?”

 

“Yes. Yes, we can.” Daichi breathed a sigh of relief. As long as he had Kuroo on his side, he would be fine.

 

Probably.

 

***

 

“He hasn’t got any free appointments.” Nishinoya glared across the reception desk.

 

“None at all?”

 

“Nope.” He folded his arms. If looks could kill, Daichi would be dead a thousand times by now.

 

“What about tomorrow?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Daichi sighed. “Could you at least tell him I was here?”

 

The scowl didn’t soften. “I’ll think about it.”

 

“Right.” At a loss, Daichi turned to head for the exit.

 

***

 

Mere minutes after Daichi left, Suga wandered into reception.

 

“Hi Noya.” He smiled, dropping a few files onto the desk. “Have I missed anything interesting?”

 

“Nope.” Noya smiled sweetly. “Nothing at all.”

 

Suga glanced at Hinata, who was snoring in his seat. Following Suga’s gaze, there was a thumping sound from under the desk as Noya dealt a hard kick to the leg, followed by Hinata jerking upright.

 

“I was just resting my eyes,” he mumbled, his hair even more ruffled than usual.

 

“Hinata,” Suga began in his most lectury-doctor voice. “What have I told you about getting enough sleep?”

 

“It’s not my fault! My friend’s been staying over and keeping me up all night!” Hinata whined. Noya snorted, and Hinata flushed red. “Not – not like that! He just stays up really late playing video games.”

 

“And he forces you to play too, I suppose?” Suga asked dryly.

 

“Well.” Hinata’s forehead creased in a look of concern which was ill-fitting with his usually-bright nature. “I would feel bad leaving him up all night on his own. Kenma’s been acting kinda weird lately, so I wanna keep him company.”

 

_Kenma?!_ Suga thought. That couldn’t be a coincidence. He wondered if Daichi knew his best friend’s boyfriend was staying with Suga’s secretary.

 

Daichi…

 

_I need to do something about that_ Suga reminded himself. He had run out on Daichi with no explanation, and Suga didn’t want to throw their whole friendship out of the window just because his feelings were unrequited. He would really love something more with Daichi, but at the same time, if he couldn’t have that…

 

He would just have to find a way of dealing with his feelings.

 

His mind returned to Hinata’s words. “Acting weird?” Suga didn’t know Kenma that well, yet he still felt himself filling with concern. Curse his bleeding heart.

 

Hinata bit his lip. “Yeah, he’s kinda scaring me. I just wish I knew what to do.”

 

Suga frowned. _Right_. The Daichi situation would have to be put on hold. He had other friends in need of help.

 

***

 

 “Hey, Kenma.”

 

Suga received little more than a grunt in reply. Kenma’s eyes remained upon the flashing TV screen, the only source of light in Hinata’s tiny bedroom. Hinata shrugged at Suga, before dropping down next to Kenma, picking up a game controller.

 

“Mario Kart?”

 

“Yeah,” Kenma replied flatly. Suga sighed. It looked like Hinata wasn’t going to take any action without some serious prompting.

 

He picked his way across Hinata’s floor, carpeted in empty crisp packets and soda cans, before taking a seat next to the pair who were already absorbed in their virtual race.

 

“Hinata says you’ve been staying with him the last few days.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“He says you’ve not been feeling yourself, either.” Suga couldn’t tell if he was being listened to. Kenma’s eyes remained on the screen, where his avatar was looping along a rainbow-coloured road. Hinata’s half of the screen kept going black.

 

“I hate this level,” Hinata grumbled as he fell from the track for the fifth time.

 

“I know you maybe don’t know me so well, but I was hoping I could help anyway,” Suga continued over the sound of Hinata’s complaints.

 

Kenma paused the game, turning to face Suga. “You don’t really want to help me. You’re just here because you like Daichi, and you think that fixing my relationship with Kuroo will make him like you too.” Kenma’s expression and tone barely differed from his usual neutrality, yet the fire in his words was enough to make Suga’s pulse stutter out of time. He had known Kenma was observant, but to have it turned upon him so suddenly, so ruthlessly…

 

“See what I mean?” Hinata whispered.

 

Suga thought his words through very carefully before continuing.

 

“You’re partly right.” His words drew a tiny huff, but he continued nonetheless. “I _do_ like Daichi. And I realise that helping you would make him happy. But honestly, I’m just really bad at minding my own business. It’s a doctor thing. Hinata’s worried about you. So is Daichi. So is Kuroo.”

 

Kenma tensed at the mention of Kuroo’s name. “Learn to keep your nose out of my business.” He started the game again.

 

“Hey, I wasn’t ready!” Hinata’s car flew off the road once more.

 

“’Fraid I can’t." Suga sighed. "Trust, me, I’ve tried. Being a Doctor means it comes with the territory. I don’t like seeing people unhappy.”

 

“I’m not unhappy.”

 

This time Hinata paused the game.

 

Kenma turned, glaring. “I was playing that.”

 

“Stop lying.” Hinata’s face scrunched up in frustration. “Please, Kenma! Why can’t you just go talk to Kuroo?!”

 

“No!” Kenma snapped.

 

“But why not?”

 

Kenma dropped the game handset onto the floor with a thump. He jumped to his feet and headed for the door.

 

“Oi, where are you going?!” Hinata called after him. Their only reply was the sound of the door slamming shut.

 

“Suga.” Hinata turned to him, his skin blotchy as though he were on the brink of tears. “He won’t talk to me. He won’t tell me _anything._ Every time I try to talk, he just does this!”

 

“Don’t worry yourself.” Suga put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay here, ok? I’m going to go after Kenma.”

 

Hinata nodded, his lower lip wobbling.

 

By the time Suga reached the street Kenma was thankfully still in sight, and with a little brisk jogging Suga quickly caught up. Kenma was striding down the road with his hood pulled over his head, shoulders hunched.

 

“I made it clear that I don’t want to talk,” he muttered.

 

“Look, I realise that maybe Kuroo’s feelings weren’t the first thing you were expecting, but it’s not fair to leave him hanging like this,” Suga persisted. “If you don’t feel the same way you have to _tell_ him. Running away will do noth-”

 

Kenma spun around, his mask of calm vanishing in an instant. There was something in those wide, wild eyes that had Suga fighting the urge to take a step back. “And what if I do?!” he spat in a voice that cracked.

 

“What?” They came to a stop in the middle of the street. The apartment block buildings cast long shadows over the cobbled street, catching Kenma in their midst.

 

“If – If I…” Kenma made a noise close to choking. “Kuroo _can’t_ love me. He just can’t.”

 

“Why on earth not?!”

 

There was a long pause.

 

“…because _I_ loved him.” Kenma whispered, his eyes on the ground. “But he never felt the same way. He never has, and he _never will_ , and believing anything else…” His breath caught in his throat.

 

Suga watched him sadly. “You just want to save yourself from that kind of pain. But Kenma, you don’t _have to-“_

 

“It’s too late.” Kenma’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing. “When we started messing around, he made it clear, it was never going to be anything serious. And I agreed _._ ”

 

“But if you had just _told him-_ ”

 

“No!”

 

“Why not?!”

 

 “I told you. It’s too late. By the time we hooked up…I’d stopped feeling that way. I had _made_ myself stop.” He paused. “I spent so long locking those emotions out. I don’t even know if I’m _capable_ of them anymore.” Kenma began rubbing his fingers against his forehead, smoothing out the frown lines and furrowed brow until he had reshaped his face into a mask of impassivity. “Kuroo _can’t_ love me. I’m too broken. He’ll get over it.”

 

Empathy ached deep inside Suga’s chest. Kenma’s pain felt as though it had pierced all the way through him and crushed his heart into dust, yet at the same time he knew he was only feeling a fraction of Kenma’s struggle.

 

When Kenma turned to leave, Suga didn’t try to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I'm being so mean to Kenma. He doesn't deserve this.
> 
> Next week: Kuroo smashes a vase.


	4. The One Where Daichi Remembers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo has never been good at taking bad news and Daichi remembers something he wishes he could forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I can be nice to Kuroo sometimes, I swear.

 

When Daichi opened his door that night, he was expecting to find a desolate Kuroo on his doorstep. Instead he found Suga, still in his work clothes and visibly flustered.   

 

It seemed only natural to invite him in for a drink, and as they waited for the kettle to boil, leaning against the kitchen counter side-by-side, Suga shared his story.

 

“…Hinata says he hasn’t seen him since,” Suga finished. 

 

Daichi bit his lip and nodded. For a moment, the only sounds in the flat were the hum of Daichi’s fridge and a faint bubbling sound from his fish tank from which his fish watched them with wide, glassy eyes.

 

“I had no idea. I mean, Kenma’s never been much of a talker, but all the same…”

 

“What do we tell Kuroo?”

 

Daichi glanced towards the door to his flat, through which Kuroo was due to arrive at any second.

 

“I don’t know. He’s in a fragile place as it is, and if we tell him everything Kenma said, he’ll blame himself even more. He could go to pieces.”

 

Suga nodded. He placed a hand on Daichi’s arm and left it there for a moment, and Daichi sighed, leaning into the touch.

 

“But at the same time,” he continued, eyes closed, “I can’t just hide this from Kuroo. He’d never forgive me.”

 

A bang echoed through the flat as the front door burst open. A few seconds later Kuroo stumbled into the kitchen, his shoulders rounded and his eyes tired. He joined them at the counter, giving Suga’s presence no more than a glance of acknowledgement. His hair was even more of a mess than usual, and his outfit consisted of a baggy old pair of joggers and the same rumpled shirt he had worn to practice several days prior. Daichi sighed - it wasn’t as though Kuroo couldn’t pick up an iron without Kenma’s help, for God’s sake. But when Daichi saw the bags under Kuroo’s eyes, his irritation melted.

 

“Please tell me this is good news.” Kuroo pushed himself up onto the table in front of them, using one of the chairs as a footrest. On any other day this would have earned him a lecture on furniture abuse, but under such dire circumstances Daichi couldn’t find it in him. 

 

“Well…” Daichi exchanged a glance with Suga. “It’s not exactly good news, no. Suga, tell him what you told me.”

 

Suga tilted his head, his expression inquiring, but Daichi answered his question before he could ask it. “Yes, all of it.”

 

Kuroo listened, wide-eyed, as Suga told his story once more. When he described Kenma’s outburst, Kuroo’s jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. Suga finished his story and in the silence that followed the kitchen, it seemed to Daichi, suddenly felt very small.

 

“He thinks he’s broken?” Kuroo’s voice was little more than a whisper. Daichi wished he could answer, but nothing came.

 

“Daichi.” Kuroo’s head snapped up, eyes black. “That shitty vase your mother gave you for your birthday. Still have it?”

 

“Yeah, it’s in my room. Why?”

 

Kuroo stood and stalked from the room. A few seconds later there was a distant smash.

 

“I really did _hate_ that vase,” Daichi told Suga conversationally.

 

The smash was quickly followed by a yell. “FUCK!”

 

“Last time we lost a volleyball match he broke two of my plates. They were good ones, too.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yep. I’ve noticed that it’s never _his_ stuff that gets broken.”

 

“SHIT!”

 

“Should we go check on him?”

 

“Nah, give it a minute. Wait for the breaking-things stage to finish first. I never have any luck talking to him when he’s throwing my mugs on the floor.”

 

“I’ll give it a try.” Suga followed Kuroo into Daichi’s room, his mouth set in a thin line.

 

Daichi would have laughed were it not for the determination in Suga’s eyes.

 

The sound of muffled conversation reached Daichi’s ears. Impressive. That was further than Daichi usually got when Kuroo was in one of his moods.

 

Suga stuck his head around the kitchen door. “He wants to know if you have anything to drink. I’m not sure if he means alcohol or not, but I’d suggest cocoa.”

 

“Uh, yeah, I have cocoa.”

 

Suga raised an eyebrow expectantly.

 

“Oh, right,” Daichi stammered, wondering if his brain would ever catch up with the rest of him. “I’ll just…make some, then.”

 

Suga just didn’t stop running out of ways to surprise Daichi - he had succeeded where Daichi had never been able to with Kuroo, but then, Suga was special, and Daichi couldn’t bring himself to be jealous. He had a calming air around him, a sort of magic that seemed able to diffuse any situation. Probably another reason why he was such a great doctor.

 

Suga vanished back into Daichi’s room with a mug of hot chocolate in each hand – mugs Daichi had chosen as he wouldn’t miss them if another smashing incident were to occur – yet he had the feeling this measure would be unnecessary. The murmuring continued for some time without interruption.

 

Suga reappeared, bringing with him a reassuring smile. “He agrees that the best thing we can do is sit tight and wait for Kenma to turn up again. He’s not happy about it, but he understands.”

 

Daichi nodded. “Suga?”

 

“Yes?”

 

He felt a grin spread across his face; one he couldn’t stop, didn’t _want to_ stop. “You’re quite possibly amazing.” As the words escaped him he felt himself flush, but the smile Suga gave in return chased his doubts away in an instant.

 

“I’m just in a good position to understand him, that’s all.” Suga joined him at the counter, their shoulders bumping together.

 

“What do you mean?” Daichi asked with the part of his mind not still stumbling over the contact of their arms.

 

“I just…problems of the heart. I can empathise.”

 

Daichi frowned as alarms began to ring in his mind. “I thought you and that patient…?”

 

“Yeah, well, I was wrong.” Suga pursed his lips, glancing downwards. “They don’t feel the same way.” Daichi felt two emotions; a stab of triumph – the stranger’s loss, but perhaps his gain! – yet at the same time a hole of guilt. Suga was clearly upset. As hard as it was to admit, Daichi would rather Suga was happy with his crush than miserable and alone.

 

“I’m sorry.” Daichi meant it.

 

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” The disappointment in Suga’s voice didn’t escape Daichi’s notice, even when he tried to hide it beneath a small smile.

 

“It’s been a long day.” Suga ran a hand through his hair, and guilt twisted in Daichi’s gut once again. “I just think…maybe if I had handled Kenma differently, or left him alone altogether…”

 

“Hey.” Daichi brought a hand up to rest on Suga’s shoulder. “I’m glad you did.”

 

Suga smiled, this time with genuine feeling. The kitchen door opened and Kuroo entered, coughing pointedly at the sight of them. “Am I interrupting something, here?”

 

Daichi took a moment to appreciate Kuroo’s endless talent for being such an utter shit.

 

Suga laughed, and Daichi let his hand drop back to his side. “Thanks, Kuroo.”

 

Kuroo smirked. It was a weak smirk, but it was something.

 

“Do you want to crash on my couch?” Despite his improvement Daichi was still reluctant to leave him on his own. He still sensed something of a meltdown in the works for Kuroo, which usually meant getting blind drunk and leaving stupid messages on Daichi’s answerphone. He figured he could do without a twenty minute voicemail rant at three in the morning about the general shittiness of the situation.  

 

“Nah, its fine. I’m only around the corner.” Kuroo headed towards the door. “And I’m keeping this mug.”

 

Daichi sighed. “Sure thing, Kuroo.”

 

Kuroo’s smirk made another feeble appearance as he vanished from sight, leaving Daichi and Suga alone in the kitchen.

 

Suga yawned. “I should probably head out, too. Work tomorrow.”

 

“Will you come to volleyball practice again?” Daichi couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice.

 

“Sure.” Suga smiled, and Daichi’s heart leapt. He was still sketchy on what had happened in the café, but whatever problem they had seemed to have resolved itself, so he let it slide.

 

As he stood in the doorway waving to Suga as he disappeared down the stairs, Daichi could feel the silence of his apartment pressing at his back. He was just flopping down onto his bed when his phone pinged with a message, relieving him for a moment from the quiet.

 

Daichi smiled, certain that it was Suga texting him on the number Daichi had punched into his phone that evening. He rolled over to pick up his mobile, and found himself proven right:

 

**Received: Sweet dreams, Daichi!**

Daichi smiled, hearing it in his head as though he had heard the words directly from Suga’s mouth.

 

Wait a minute.

 

He _had_ heard Suga say those words to him. But when…?

 

Blurred memories began to slide into place.

 

_Suga half-carried, half-dragged Daichi through the door to his flat. He was drunk, so very drunk, and he knew he was making an idiot of himself but at the same time he didn’t want to stop. He was talking and giggling, and Suga was smiling back, and Daichi was no longer sure if it was the drink or the man in front of him that was making him feel light-headed._

_“Where’s your bedroom, Daichi?” Suga asked, and Daichi had to take a second to remind himself that Suga was just helping this idiot almost-stranger get to bed because he was too incapacitated to walk on his own. Nothing else._

_“’Ss through there,” Daichi slurred, nodding towards the door with his head. Suga lead Daichi through, and Daichi had to admire the man because he had to be taking at least half of Daichi’s weight yet he hadn’t even broken a sweat. He also had to have the patience of a saint to put up with Daichi’s drunkenness._

_“You’re such a great person, Sssuga.” Daichi mumbled, tongue stumbling around the S. “So kind. So sweet.”_

_“You mentioned.” Suga laughed, lowering Daichi onto the bed. “But really, it’s nothing.”_

_“No.” Daichi grabbed Suga by the front, pulling him down until they were at eye-level. “’Ss not nothing. Thankss, Suga.”_

_Suga smiled again. That was when Daichi moved his hands clumsily up to catch Suga’s face, and then he-_

“Oh God.” Daichi groaned out loud to his empty room. “Please tell me I didn’t. Please tell me I didn’t _actually…”_

 

_-pulled Suga’s face forwards and into his, forcing their mouths into a sloppy kiss. Suga’s lips emitted a surprised squeak as they slid against his, before Daichi felt hands on his shoulders, pushing him back._

_Even as drunk as he was, Daichi could feel dulled twangs of panic begin to pull at his chest._

_“Daichi, I…” Suga looked as though all the blood in his body had rushed to his face, and his grip on Daichi’s shoulders was tight. “You’re drunk, Daichi. You may not realise right now that you didn’t mean that, but I do. And I can’t take advantage of you like this, ok? Go to sleep.”_

_“Sorry, Suga,” Daichi mumbled miserably, his head drooping._

_Suga shook his head. “Its fine, Daichi.” He paused, a smirk stealing across his face. “Try again when you’re sober.”_

_Daichi missed the wink that came with Suga’s words._

 

“Sorry again.”

 

Suga laughed. _“Forget about it. Sweet dreams, Daichi.”_

_Suga left his room, and it wasn’t long before Daichi heard the door to his flat open and close. As he fell into a drunken sleep, he found himself wishing that he could, indeed, forget about it._

And he had. He _had_ forgotten. Oh God. Daichi screwed up his eyes and pulled a pillow over his face to muffle his groans. Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-

 

He remained in that position for some time.

 

He had kissed Suga. Which meant Suga doubtless knew about Daichi’s hopeless crush. He had probably decided to pretend that the whole thing had never happened to save Daichi the embarrassment of rejection.

 

Suga almost certainly knew how Daichi felt, had known all along. Daichi cursed himself. He probably looked like such an idiot, some poor, lovesick fool that Suga didn’t quite have the heart to turn away.

 

Daichi was poised to spend the next hour or so agonizing over these revelations, when he was saved by the question which spun up from the depths of his mind: what now?

 

It wasn’t as though he could casually slide it into conversation. _Hey, Suga, remember that time I snogged you because I was drunk and really liked you? Sure was embarrassing, right?!”_ Nope. But he couldn’t ignore it either. Then again, that was the technique Suga had been successfully employing for several days now.

 

He decided it was the kind of problem that was best solved by sleeping on it. He was about to roll himself under the covers when he remembered that he hadn’t yet replied to Suga’s text.

 

He fidgeted with his phone for some time, wondering how he would bring himself to look Suga in the eye when he couldn’t even deal with a simple text anymore. He tossed his phone from hand to hand, opened and closed his text window a few times, typed and re-typed his reply before he finally forced himself to hit send.

 

**Sent: You too, Suga.**

***

 

Alcohol, according to Kuroo, was both the cause of and solution to all of life’s problems. He was pretty sure this philosophy was something he had gotten from an episode of _The Simpsons_ , but if you couldn’t take life advice from a bunch of yellow cartoons, then from whom?

 

He felt as though he could do with some life advice right about now. Unfortunately, _The Simpsons_ didn’t seem to be on TV. All the channels were showing some kind of silent documentary about caving. No, hang on – the TV wasn’t actually turned on. That was it.

 

“I’m really fucking drunk.” Kuroo announced to the blank screen. The screen didn’t reply. It was only marginally less responsive than Kenma.

 

Kuroo groaned. He shouldn’t have thought about Kenma. He had been drinking specifically to _forget_ Kenma. But of course his brain wasn’t going to leave him alone no matter how much alcohol he tried to drown it in.

 

Kenma thought he was broken. That was what Suga had said. It was utterly, utterly Kuroo’s fault. He bit his lip, aiming a clumsy punch at the couch’s pillow and missing. He let out a noise that was a cross between a groan and a sob, before slumping face-first into the other side of couch. Which, it transpired, really didn’t help, because now he had face-planted onto Kenma’s place. They had spent countless evenings there, with Kenma scrunched up in his corner, more often than not with Kuroo’s legs splayed across his lap in spite of Kenma’s complaints. Kuroo could no longer help but smell Kenma in the worn material, the warm mix of apples and deodorant (always the same one, because Kenma didn’t like change, but now Kuroo had gone and changed things, changed _everything)_ and Kuroo hurt, hurt so much. If he had been slightly less sunken in a drunken stupor he would have been smashing things. As it was, he could only slouch on the couch they had once shared and try not to think about all that he had ruined.

 

Which was a _lot_.

 

“Kenma.” He murmered into his phone. When had he picked it up? Kuroo couldn’t remember. He stared miserably at the dumb cat picture he had set as Kenma’s profile picture to annoy him, ignoring the timer that showed his message was being recorded. “Kenma. I really miss you. Really, really – oh sssshit!” There was a thump as the phone slipped through his fingers and onto the floor.

 

“Kenma!” Kuroo yelled. He slid onto the floor, swiping his hand around in search of the escaped phone. “Kenma, I can’t find m’phone right now, but I’ll shout REALLY LOUD so’s you can hear me… Kenma. Kenma-Kenma-Kenma. I fucked up so bad. You think there’s something wrong with you, and that’s my fault.” Kuroo’s breath caught. “There’s nothing wrong with you, ok? You’re just fine the way you are. You’re just… perfect. Perfect for me. Too perfect. You get what I’m sayin’? I really…” Kuroo let out a shaky breath. “I love you, Kenma. So much. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it… I’m really, really sorry, oh God, I fucked up… but you’re not broken Kenma, for not loving me back. Don’t think that. It’s easy not to love me, ask Daichi, he’ll say it’s easier to hate me. Probably has a point. But… Kenma, I just really love you, did I already say that? And I know you don’t feel the same, but please…” Kuroo’s voice cracked. “Just let me know you’re safe. Please. Please.”

 

The doorbell rang, loud and jarring, pulling Kuroo from his train of thought.

 

“Hang on a mintute, there’s someone at th’ door.” Kuroo clambered to his feet, knocking empty beer bottles over like bowling pins. He took a wobbly step and heard a crunching sound.

 

Well, at least he had now found his phone.

 

Miraculously undamaged mobile in hand, Kuroo meandered in the direction of the door. He tugged it open, swaying on his feet.

 

He raised the phone to his face again. “Kenma, I’ve gotta go. You’re…here.” He hung up. “Uh.” He looked at Kenma. Kenma looked back. “That was really fast. How’d you do that? I just left the message.”

 

“I know. That was your ninth.”

 

“Oh. Sorry. Lost track.”

 

“Don’t apologise.” Kenma scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floorboards. “I should be the one apologising.”

 

Kuroo began shaking his head, but stopped when Kenma reached up to grab Kuroo by his shoulders.

 

“I don’t know if I still love you. That scares me.” Kenma’s words sent shards of ice through Kuroo’s chest, but just as he was about to tip over the edge and into despair Kenma’s grip tightened. “But I’ve decided I still want to find out.”

 

Kuroo’s head snapped up to meet Kenma’s unfaltering gaze. His hands pulled Kuroo’s shoulders down until they were at eye-level and before Kuroo knew what was happening Kenma’s lips were sliding against his, warm and gentle. Hands tugged through his hair and Kuroo sighed against Kenma’s mouth as if exhaling all his woes at once. Worries of fumbling fingers and bad breath crowded Kuroo’s mind but were banished when Kenma pressed in against him with a tiny noise that tore through his heart. They had kissed before, of course, harsh and rough and messy crushing of mouth against mouth under the allure of sex. His mind flashed through all those times when they’d been “messing around” because Kuroo had either been too stupid or too scared to recognise it as anything more and swore to himself that he would make it up to Kenma, starting immediately.  

 

He pulled Kenma into the flat and into his arms, resolving never to let him leave either again.

 

***

 

“What do you think love is, Kuroo? What do you think it feels like?” Kenma’s words vibrated through Kuroo’s chest. He yawned, pulling the covers up and over their heads until they were thoroughly nestled inside their cocoon as he mulled over the question.

 

“I think it’s wanting to stay with someone forever. But I’m really fucking drunk. Don’t take my word for it.”

 

“Ah.” It was closer to a breath than a word and Kuroo shivered as it brushed against his skin.

 

“Why?” He stretched his fingers out, ran them over the outline of Kenma’s shoulder blades before stroking across the curve of his spine. Kenma twitched, and Kuroo felt him smile into his chest as he wriggled in his arms, ticklish as ever. When he settled down again Kuroo took the opportunity to nuzzle the top of his head, and Kenma let out a small huff which almost sounded like a giggle.

 

“That’s what I feel,” he answered at last. “With you.”

 

“You mean…?”

 

“Yeah.” Kenma smiled again, and Kuroo pulled him in tight, breathing in the smell of apples and deodorant and swallowing down what was most certainly _not_ a sob because Kuroo was _not_ a drunk crier and he was _not_ a sap and if he teared up now he would _never_ hear the end of it and-

 

-and he wasn’t the only one crying.

 

They fell asleep that way, a tangle of limbs and covers and tears and laughter, and that was how they stayed until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Kuroken???? In MY fic???? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> Next week: Daichi learns a valuable lesson in road safety the hard way.


	5. The One With the Broken Leg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's in times like this that Daichi appreciates his friends, even when they're breaking into his house at the crack of dawn to take incriminating photos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Lightning McQueen, may he rest in fucking pieces. See if you can spot his cameo.
> 
> ((I've never seen a Cars movie but Jesus, that trailer. Fuck))

Daichi could have sworn that the car came out of nowhere.

 

He took what was, for all he knew, the last moments of his life to appreciate the bitter irony. The school faculty spent half their lives warning students about this particular corner. _The cars always come around too fast,_ they nagged. _They can’t see people crossing until it’s too late._ But, of course, if there was one thing Daichi was great at, it was being a goddamn idiot.

 

The last thing he remembered was a crack that felt like it ran through his entire body, a flash of all-consuming white pain and the thought _they should really put speedbumps here_.

 

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was white. And bleeping. The smell of apples.

 

Kenma, playing one of his video games?

 

No. A monitor. But Kenma was indeed beside him, hands clasped in his lap as he watched Daichi with wide eyes.

 

Wow. Daichi’s leg hurt. He tried to move, and immediately regretted it as pain clawed up his body.

 

“It’s broken,” Kenma said. He opened his mouth as if wishing to say more, but instead turned his head away, wringing his hands.  

 

Kenma’s nerves set the beginnings of Daichi’s panic into motion. “Broken?!”

 

“Apparently it isn’t too serious. It should feel worse than it looks.”

 

Daichi brought his hand up to his head and groaned.

 

“I guess they were right about that, then,” muttered Kenma. “I’ll get Kuroo, he went looking for the vending machines.” Kenma left Daichi to contemplate his leg, which he could now see was set in a cast up to the thigh. In fluorescent pink.

 

Kuroo bounded in, followed by Kenma.

 

“Fucking idiot.” Kuroo threw a bag of grapes at Daichi’s chest.

 

“Is that you trying to be nice?”

 

“Shut up, or I won’t sign your cast.”

 

“That is _not_ an incentive.”

 

“Too bad, I’m doing it anyway. Nice colour.” Kuroo pulled out a pen. “How do you spell _stupid dickhead who can’t even cross the road properly_?”

 

“Kuroo! I work with _children!”_

 

“Teenagers. And not with that cast, buddy.”

 

The implications crashed down on Daichi with all the grace and delicacy of a tonne of bricks. A broken leg meant he wasn’t going to be working any time soon. No volleyball, either. _Shit_. Daichi was going to go _insane_. He needed _movement_.

 

Kenma wrestled the pen from Kuroo, drawing a cat with a winky face across Daichi’s foot.

 

“Thanks,” he deadpanned, more grateful for being saved from Kuroo’s mischief than for the illustration. 

 

“No problem.” Kenma elbowed away Kuroo’s grabby hands, refusing to relinquish control of the pen despite having finished with it.

 

The tension of the last few days had vanished from Kuroo’s shoulders, and the pair seemed happy to let their hands brush against each other as they squabbled playfully for control of the pen, prompting a quiet chuckle from Daichi. At least the Kuroo-Kenma situation was one problem off his list, enough to make room for the new leg catastrophe which seemed set to dominate his life for a while.

 

After Kuroo added some of his own graffiti under Kenma’s close supervision, the pair left with the promise to return.

 

Daichi didn’t have much to do after that except doze and eat his battered grapes. Doctors and nurses came and went, confirming the details of Daichi’s injuries which Kenma had already relayed to him. It wasn’t until early evening that his boredom was unexpectedly interrupted.

 

“Daichi!”

 

“Suga?” Daichi pushed himself up in the bed, wincing.

 

“Oh my God! Are you alright? Kuroo told me you had been in a car crash, I was so worried!”

 

“It’s just a broken bone, seriously, there’s nothing to… Are _you_ alright?” Daichi sounded almost as concerned as Suga did. His breathing was shallow and his hair ruffled, which was _not_ a look which should have worked for him. (And yet it did, it _really_ did).

 

“Its fine, I just… Lots of stairs,” Suga puffed. Daichi raised an eyebrow. He had seen Suga in action; he didn’t get tired _that_ easily.

 

“Sit down. You look ready to faint!” Daichi said, before looking around and realising that there wasn’t a chair in the room. This didn’t bother Suga, who immediately perched on the bed by Daichi’s side.

 

“Is this ok? I’m not hurting you, am I?” Suga placed a warm hand on Daichi’s arm and squeezed it comfortingly.

 

“No! No, that’s fine.” Daichi blushed as he felt goose bumps breaking out across his skin.

 

“So what did your doctors say?”

 

“They’re just keeping me in for a little longer in case I have concussion or whatever, and it looks like I’m going to be on crutches for a while.”

 

“That’s terrible!” Suga squeezed his arm again.

 

“Ah, it was my own stupid fault. I should have been more careful.”

 

Suga shook his head, leaning forwards so that Daichi had no choice but to make eye contact. At such proximity he could see the tinge of pink in Suga’s cheeks, see the flutter of his eyelashes when he blinked. “I’m glad you’re okay.”  

 

“Thanks.” Daichi ignored his heart as it beat a little quicker in his chest. “Hey, you can even sign my cast if you want.”

 

“I would, but most of it seems to be covered with a drawing of a target. And the words “kick here”. Let me guess, Kuroo?”

 

“Kuroo,” Daichi confirmed.

 

Nevertheless, Suga, ready and equipped for anything, pulled a marker from his pocket. Daichi couldn’t see what Suga wrote as he turned around to scribble on his cast, but enjoyed the feeling of Suga’s weight on the bed and the quiet, absent-minded humming as he drew.

 

Suga was pushing the cap back onto the pen when the doctor entered with the news that Daichi could be discharged.

 

“Am I even using these right?” Daichi grumbled to Suga as he hobbled down the hospital corridor on his crutches. They felt like dangerous weapons. Daichi swung them about experimentally, imagining the damage he could do if certain friends were particularly annoying (hah), but stopped when he noticed nurses and patients scooting out of his way with panicked expressions. “It feels so…wonky.”

 

Suga chuckled. “I think it helps if you accept the fact that walking non-wonkily will be impossible for a while.”

 

Daichi groaned. “Do you want to share a taxi back to my flat? I think a bus is out of the question right now.”

 

Suga agreed, which was how Daichi’s day ended with them curled up on the couch under several blankets, each with a mug of tea (he hadn’t yet had the heart to tell Suga he was a coffee man) and the television chattering cheerfully in the background _._

 

 Having Suga fuss over him had been the guiltiest of pleasures. He insisted on making them a meal, then drinks, settling him on the couch in enough blankets to cover the continent and a pillow on the coffee table for him to rest his leg on.

 

“You don’t need to baby me, you know. It’s just a broken leg.” Daichi protested weakly.

 

“You’ve had a traumatic day,” Suga insisted. “You need to rest up and laugh at something for a while. Doctor’s orders.”

 

Which was how, after no small amount of bickering, they settled on a _Scrubs_ marathon, frequently interrupted by Suga complaining about medical inaccuracies, each time earning himself a nudge. And of course Suga would retaliate with a giggle, and more often than not it ended in all-out war from which neither was willing to surrender.   

 

Daichi didn’t even notice as the sunlight faded to be replaced by the thousands of tiny city lights which glowed like fireflies suspended in the air through his living room windows. He just observed as Suga slowly quietened, his head beginning to nod as he slumped against Daichi’s shoulder. His hair tickled Daichi’s chin, and when he let out a yawn Daichi quickly found himself echoing it. It was becoming harder for Daichi to keep his own eyes open, and the temptation to let himself doze for a while was far too tempting.

 

The next time he opened his eyes the apartment was dark save for the flickering light of static from the TV screen. Daichi shifted slightly – ouch, moved his leg, big mistake – before feeling a weight on his front. Soft hair in his face. A hand bunched up in his shirt.

 

Suga was asleep across his chest.

 

Hovering somewhere between awake and asleep, Daichi wondered if the beautiful man half-lying on top of him was a beautiful dream. But the feeling of warm breath, the smell of vanilla, it was unmistakeably real.

 

But Daichi’s brain, too sluggish to see a way out of the problem or even admit that there _was_ a problem, opted instead to return to dreaming.

 

***

 

“…this is going _straight_ into my blackmail folder.”

 

“Kuroo, delete that photo.”

 

“Absolutely not. They’re too adorable to live.”

 

Suga blinked and mumbled into the warm cloth which was damp with his drool. The voices that had disturbed him continued, but it was only when whatever he was lying on began moving that he really began to awaken.

 

He lifted his head to find himself faced with wide brown eyes.

 

“Uuh.” Suga’s mouth dropped open.

 

“B-Bed hair!” was all Daichi seemed capable of saying.

 

There was a very loud, very false cough.

 

“Apologies for intruding, Daichi. We didn’t realise you had company!”

 

Daichi’s gaze tore away from Suga and moved up to Kuroo and Kenma, who loomed over them with varying degrees of amusement. “I gave you guys a key for emergencies, not for early–morning break-ins.”

 

“It _is_ an emergency. This ice–cream will melt if we don’t put it in the freezer.”

 

“Why do you have ice–cream?!”

 

“We went shopping for your ungrateful invalid ass, you idiot!”

 

Suga took Daichi and Kuroo’s bickering as an opportunity to slide off Daichi’s chest, his face flushing red. Suga wondered how he ever trusted himself to leave the house, let alone practice medicine. He was clearly out of control and _oh God, Daichi’s shirt still had his drool on it._

 

Shaking the sleep from his head, he followed Kenma into the kitchen to help with emptying the shopping bags, partly so that he could give his heart-rate a chance to return to its normal pace.

 

“I’m glad you and Kuroo are happy again,” he said tentatively as the pair began sorting through the bags.

 

Kenma made a noise which Suga could only guess was one of agreement, followed by a pause, and then, “I’m sorry.”

 

Suga looked up from a shopping bag which appeared to contain nothing but cans of beer. “What for?”

 

“Yelling at you. Disappearing. Causing so much bother. I didn’t realise people would be so…worried.”   

 

“Of course we would be worried. We’re your friends.”

 

Kenma looked down, his hair sliding forward to hide his face. “Thanks.”

 

Nevertheless, Suga caught a glimpse of the tiny smile playing around his lips.

 

***

 

Daichi could feel the beginnings of a headache forming.

 

“So.” Kuroo dropped down on the couch in the space which Suga had vacated. “Congratulations. Did he take pity on your broken leg and finally agree to settle for you?” He picked up one of the plates of last night’s dinner and began picking through Daichi’s leftovers.

 

“Don’t let Suga see you doing that. He’ll start on about bacteria and contamination and other doctor-y things.” Daichi wrinkled his nose. “Besides, it’s gross.”

 

Kuroo paused to stick his tongue out at Daichi before he resumed his munching. “Man, this is good.” His eyes lit up. “Wait, did Suga make you this? Oh man. That’s so sickeningly adorable. Daichi, this man is a _catch_.”

 

“Shut up!” Daichi smacked Kuroo with a pillow. “Anyway, it’s not like it was a date or anything. We were just watching TV and dozed off. We’re friends. That’s all.”

 

“Yeah. Because sleeping curled up in each other’s arms it _totally_ a friend thing.”

 

“Kuroo!”

 

“Come on! You like him. Stop dicking around and ask him out already!”

 

“I can’t!”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because,” Daichi’s voice dropped to a whisper as he remembered that Suga was no more than a room away. “Because he doesn’t like me back.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“I got drunk and kissed him,” Daichi hissed, “and he acted like it never happened!”

 

Kuroo’s eyebrows shot upwards. “What?!”

 

Daichi was saved from answering when Kenma and Suga reappeared.

 

“Kuroo, I know you meant well by shopping for Daichi, but as his doctor I feel I must point out that if he actually _eats_ all the junk food you bought him he will probably die.”

 

Kuroo didn’t reply, instead staring at Daichi with a peculiar kind of intensity.

 

“That was probably his plan all along,” answered Daichi on his behalf. “The car didn’t manage to finish me off so now he’s making his own attempt.”

 

Kenma snorted, but Suga gave him a stern frown. “Don’t joke about that. You worried me.”

 

Daichi’s heart flipped in his chest as he saw once more the deep concern etched into Suga’s face. He felt a guilty heat rush to his face as he considered the panic he had put Suga and the rest of his friends through.

 

“Kuroo, you’re going to be late for work,” Kenma noted.

 

“Oh shit, you’re right. My shift at the station starts at ten.” Kuroo bounded to his feet, glaring at Daichi’s wall clock as if it were to blame.

 

“What is your job, Kuroo? I don’t remember you saying,” Suga asked.

 

“Just your hot local fireman. Sometimes a little too hot. Occupational hazard.” Kuroo winked

 

Daichi sighed. “The number of goddamn puns I have been subjected to-”

 

“That _we_ have been subjected to,” Kenma corrected, “and if the hot local fireman doesn’t get a move on he’s going to be late.” Kenma grabbed Kuroo by the hand to pull towards the door. “Bye, guys.” Kuroo waved goodbye over his shoulder, mouthing at Daichi in his last seconds before he disappeared from sight something that looked suspiciously like _did you hear, he called me hot!_

 

“I better be going too.” Suga glanced down at his wristwatch as the front door banged shut. “I’ll come back later, though. If that’s ok?” He glanced nervously up at Daichi in search of confirmation.

 

“Yeah, of course! That would be great.” Daichi smiled, feeling his spirits lift at the prospect of another visit so soon.

 

“Nice. Now, rest that leg. Don’t move unless you have to. And resist the temptation to eat all that crap Kuroo bought you. It really _isn’t_ healthy.”

 

“Yessir, Doctor Sugawara!”

 

Suga chuckled. “See you later!”

 

And like that he was gone. Daichi sighed, slouching back down on the couch upon which he seemed destined to spend most of his day. He froze, the florescent pink cast suddenly catching his eye. There was one signature upon it he had yet to inspect.

 

_Get well soon. Doctor’s orders!_

_Xxx_

While Daichi would deny it to anyone who asked, the schoolgirl inside him couldn’t help but flush at the three kisses left by Suga’s steady hand. He breathed in deeply.

 

He could still smell the soft scent of vanilla which lingered on his clothes.

 

***

 

 It only took a gentle jog for Suga to catch up with Kuroo and Kenma. The sun was rising higher and higher in the sky, wiping away the last of the early-morning mist and breathing new life into the city. There had been rain during the night, leaving the world smelling fresh, clean. Suga darted around a puddle, finally getting close enough to catch some of Kuroo and Kenma’s conversation.

 

“…seems pretty sure the feelings don’t go both ways…”

 

“It doesn’t matter what he says. It’s obvious that he’s wrong…”

 

“Hey, guys,” Suga interrupted.

 

The pair jumped.

 

“Oh, Suga! How long have you been there?” Kuroo asked with a forced lightness.

 

“Not long. Why-?”

 

“Absolutely no reason whatsoever. You going our way?”

 

“Just for a while, yeah.” Suga fell into step with the other two as they walked down the street.  “I’m glad Daichi’s ok. The way you described him at volleyball practice, I was really worried.”

 

“Well, he was pretty beaten up when we saw him. But you know how Daichi is, brave face.”

 

Suga nodded. Something about Kuroo’s words tugged at his chest.

 

_…you know how Daichi is…_

 

He did. He knew Daichi so well already, so well it almost scared him.

 

He put the thought aside, because in spite of the embarrassment of waking up on Daichi’s _chest of all places,_ Suga was looking forward to returning to Daichi’s. He already had an idea of what they could do to alleviate the boredom of Daichi’s house arrest…

 

“Suga, do you think you could settle a bet for me and Kenma?”

 

“Oh?” Suga was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of Kuroo’s voice.

 

“Well, Kenma reckons you have a massive crush on Daichi. But I think that you probably have at least some standards and so would obviously never be interested.” Kuroo smiled. “So which of us is right? Because I’ve got money riding on this.”

 

Suga chose that moment to have a conveniently timed coughing fit.

 

“Wow! You win, Kenma.” Kuroo clapped Suga on the back. “Congratulations! You have the worst taste ever. Daichi is horrific. I can show you some stuff from my blackmail folder if you don’t believe me.”

 

“I don’t know why you still bet against me when you always loose,” Kenma noted.

 

“That’s part of the fun of it!”

 

“How…” Suga stuttered as he recovered from his coughing fit at last. “How did you – I mean, not that I’m admitting to anything!” The pair looked at him sceptically, but he continued nonetheless. “I mean, if I hypothetically _did_ like Daichi, in _that_ way, what would have brought you to that conclusion?”

 

Kuroo smirked. “Thank the brain, not me.”

 

Kenma rolled his eyes.

 

“Please don’t tell him.” Suga gave up all pretence. “I don’t want to mess this up. He’s not interested, and my feelings will just make it awkward.”

 

Kuroo opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Kenma butted in, “we won’t.”

 

Kuroo’s eyes widened at Kenma’s words. “Wh-?”

 

“We better be going. Or else Kuroo’s going to be even later than he already is.” Kenma turned Kuroo in the direction of a turn-off. “Say hi to Daichi for us when you see him again.”

 

“I will.” Suga didn’t even wonder why Kenma assumed Suga was going to see Daichi before them. Maybe Suga was more predictable than he thought he was, or perhaps Kenma was simply a genius, or both.

 

He turned in the direction of the practice, his mind still spinning with the morning’s events.

 

***

 

“Why did you stop me from telling him?!”

 

“Because it’s not your place to. It’s Daichi’s choice. They have to figure it out themselves.”

 

“I can’t stand that kind of rom-com bullshit. You know that, right?”

 

“Yeah.” Kenma chose not to point out that their own drama hadn’t been so far from the plot of a bad romance film. Instead he enjoyed the feeling of Kuroo’s thumb running across his knuckles and the warmth of their entwined arms as they walked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, Lightning McQueen broke Daichi's leg. It's canon. 
> 
> Coming up next: the human disease that is Oikawa Tooru makes his first appearance. Good luck, Daichi. And...does anyone smell something burning?


	6. The One With Cookies and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cookies seemed like a fun idea at first. 
> 
> How badly could one person mess up baking, after all?

“I swear, he’s going to kill me.”

 

“Hinata, why would the new nurse want to kill you?”

 

“I can see it in his eyes.” Hinata peered around the water cooler. On the other side of the room, the practice’s newest member was flipping through sheets of paper, frown in place.

 

“Have you actually _spoken_ to him yet?” Suga asked, already suspecting the answer. 

 

“N-No!” Hinata stammered, confirming Suga’s suspicions. “But he always looks so angry. He probably doesn’t want to talk to me. He probably hates me.”

 

“You can’t know anything for certain without actually _talking_ to him.” Suga sighed. “Seriously. Go introduce yourself. He might just be nervous.”

 

“That guy? Nervous?” Hinata’s scepticism was understandable. Kageyama was… hard to read at best, but his resting face gave him something of an intimidating air. Suga couldn’t blame Hinata for his nerves.  

 

The nurse turned to look in their direction and Suga heard a squeak beside him followed by the sound of scampering footsteps, and Suga found the space beside him vacated. When he spun back around he found Kageyama standing at his shoulder.

 

Suga would have denied to anyone who asked that he had jumped.

 

“Does he…” The taller man swallowed, and Suga had to suppress a chuckle. How was Hinata afraid of someone so awkward? “Does that guy have some kind of problem with me?”

 

“No! No, he’s just…a little jittery. He takes time to get comfortable around new people. Try talking to him.” Suga patted him on the shoulder. “Smile. Be friendly.”

 

“Smile?” Kageyama’s frown deepened. Suga decided that this was more from concentration than irritation. “I can smile.”

 

“Great!” Suga patted him on the shoulder again, a gesture Kageyama received awkwardly before leaving Suga at the water cooler with a grateful nod.

 

“You’re in a good mood today.” Noya smirked as Suga perched himself on the edge of his desk.  

 

“Oh?” Suga hummed.  

 

“Yeah. You’ve got that face. With the dimples. Sickening.”

 

“I do apologise.” Suga gave Noya a deliberately wide grin.

 

“Ew! Ew! Stop!” The pair began giggling. “But seriously. What’s with the good mood?”

 

“Ah.” Suga forced himself to sober up. “Do you remember that patient I told you I liked?”

 

“The one who didn’t like you back.” Noya’s expression darkened. “I remember.”  

 

“Well, he’s broken his leg.”

 

“Oh, great!”

 

Suga stared incredulously. “No. Not great. What the hell, Noya?!”

 

“Sorry. But he _is_ a dick.”

 

Suga sighed. “He really isn’t.  He’s nice. Sweet.” Suga broke off to chuckle. Noya watched in disgust. “But anyway, I’m going back over to his this evening. He’s been stuck at home on his crutches so I’m going over later with some baking supplies. To make cookies.”

 

Noya looked at Suga as though he had started speaking another language. “You’re still hanging out with this guy.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You’re going to bake cookies with him.”

 

“Yeah, so?”

 

“You’re still hanging out with this guy. And doing couple-y things with him. After he turned you down. _And what do you mean by going “back”?_ ”

 

Suga flushed, feeling irritation rising in his throat.

 

“He didn’t turn me down, he just mentioned that he wasn’t interested in anyone. Which would, of course, include me. And baking is _not_ a couple-y thing. It’s a friends-having-fun thing. Which is obviously not something you seem capable of understanding.” Suga failed to keep his voice steady.

 

Noya bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh?!”

 

“I...” Suga sighed. “Nothing. I just don’t want you getting the wrong impression about Daichi, is all.”

 

Noya’s gaze was piercing. “You really care about this guy?”

 

“I… I guess I do, yeah.”

 

“In that case…” Noya swallowed. “I retract my statement. About him being a dick.”

 

“Thanks, Noya.”

 

“It’s fine. Although you still haven’t entirely answered one of my questions.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“You said you were going _back_ to Daichi’s today. Which indicates you were already there. Today.”

 

“I…I…” Suga stuttered. “I may have fallen asleep on his couch. Or, more specifically, on _him_. Accidently. Meaning I ended up staying over.”

 

Noya snorted. “Ah, yes, sleeping on top of each other, another well-known friends-having-fun thing that entirely platonic buddies do _all_ the time.”

 

Suga rolled his eyes.

 

“Although” Noya continued, resting his chin on his hands. “Baking does sound fun. Maybe I should bake for Asahi!”

 

“Great idea!” Suga forced a wide smile, remembering the last time Noya had tried to cook anything that didn’t involve a microwave. There had been tears. Mostly Asahi’s.

 

“Yeah, I want to do something a bit different. Special, you know?”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It’s been a year. Since Asahi and I started dating.”

 

“Wow!” Suga counted back, unable to believe it was true. A whole year already? That couldn’t be right.

 

Yet Suga had been in Africa for so long, and had missed much of their relationship as it developed. That was a little sad – not that he would have changed anything. The work he had done out there had been too important to miss for anything.

 

“Hey. Suga, can you keep a secret?” There was a glimmer in Noya’s eyes. It was a glimmer that invariably meant trouble. Suga had learnt this the hard way.

 

“Yes. Unlike you. Why?”

 

Noya checked over his shoulder dramatically, before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small red velvet box which he opened for Suga’s inspection.

 

“No way…” Suga leaned in to examine the ring nestled in the box. “Noya, I’m honoured, but what will your boyfriend say?”

 

“Idiot!” Noya snapped the lid shut before returning it hurriedly to his pocket. “So, what do you think? Will he like it?”

 

“Noya…” Suga chocked. “Yes! Yes…!”

 

“Oh my God. Suga? Are you _crying?_ ”

 

“Absolutely not. That would be entirely unprofessional.” Nevertheless, he accepted Noya’s offer of a tissue. “I’m just… ah, my babies are growing up.”

 

“We are NOT your babies!”

 

Suga sniffed. “Don’t worry. I trust you to look after Asahi. Or else.”

 

Noya raised an eyebrow. “Is that a _threat_ , Suga?”

 

Suga raised an eyebrow in imitation before turning wordlessly and heading for his office, sending a wink over his shoulder as he left.

 

Noya was right. He really _was_ in a good mood.

 

***  


A few moments after Suga’s departure there was a high-pitched scream as Hinata bolted through the reception area and out of sight. Kageyama appeared seconds after, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

 

“All I did was _smile_ ,” He whispered mournfully.

 

***

 

Daichi _knew_ Suga wouldn’t get off work until late afternoon. Yet when he heard the door to his flat open, his heart couldn’t help but jump in his chest, the first thought in his head being _Suga’s here!_

 

Unfortunatly, it was _not_ Suga.

 

“Yoo-hoo!” chimed Oikawa.

                                                                                                           

“I gave you my flat key for _emergencies._ So unless the building is on fire I don’t want to hear about it.” Daichi really had to be more careful about who he handed his flat keys out to.

 

“Daichi! So rude! When I’m being so kind and neighbourly by checking up on you.”

 

Daichi sighed. “What do you want from me?”

 

Oikawa faked a hurt expression. “Who says I want anything?” He flopped down on the couch beside Daichi, making the cushion bounce enough to send shooting pains up and down his leg.

 

“You wouldn’t _be here_ if you didn’t want something.”

 

“Maybe I saw you on your way to your flat with a cast on your leg and wanted to check up on you! And make sure the refreshingly cute boy you were with hasn’t been taking advantage of you…”

 

“He – we aren’t – shut up!”

 

“You’re not?” Oikawa straightened up. “Good. That will make this _much_ easier.”

 

“ _What_ much easier?” Daichi fixed Oikawa with his best no-nonsense expression. “I’m not giving you his number, if that’s what you’re after.”

 

“Ah, always jumping to conclusions! But no, it’s not Mister Refreshing I’m after.”

 

“Oh?” Daichi couldn’t even force himself to fake interest. He picked up the magazine he had been flicking through with an audible rustle.

 

“Nope. Daichi, I need you to go out with me.”

 

Daichi stared for a few seconds. He let the magazine drop onto his lap. “ _Fuck_ , no.”

 

“Not for reaaaaaaaaal. I need you to pretend. To make _Someone_ jealous.”

 

“I wonder who that could be,” Daichi muttered.

 

“Well.” Oikawa’s expression shifted from angelically innocent to cunning in an instant. “I _could_ tell you. But Daichi has been mean to me so I needn’t bother!”

 

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually kidding me? I know it’s Iwaizumi. It’s obviously Iwaizumi. You’ve only been obsessing over your damn flatmate since _forever_.” 

 

Oikawa’s self–satisfied smirk evaporated to be replaced with indignation as he visibly deflated. “How did you know?”

 

“Because it’s so obvious that I want to shoot myself in the face whenever I see you two together. Seriously, you’re lucky that he’s just as dense as you are, otherwise he would have clocked you ages ago.”

 

Oikawa scowled.

 

“But I’m glad you’re actually doing something about it at last. It was driving the whole building insane.”

 

“So you’ll help me?” Oikawa beamed his trademark smile, specifically designed to make the insides of men and women alike turn to mush.

 

It was not a smile which worked on Daichi.

 

“Absolutely not. I refused to be dragged into some sort of forced love triangle to help you get laid.”

 

“But Daichiiiiiiiiiiii” Oikawa turned his puppy eyes onto Daichi, poking his side with his feet. “Pleaaaaaaaaase?”

 

“There is _nothing_ you can say that will change my mind.”

 

“Oh?” Oikawa’s eyes narrowed, as if to say _challenge accepted._

 

_Uh oh,_ thought Daichi, but it was already too late.

 

“You will pretend to be my boyfriend,” Oikawa announced, pointing theatrically at Daichi, “or _I_ will go after Mister Refreshing. I might even tell him how _you_ oh-so-obviously feel about him.”

 

Daichi paled. “You _wouldn’t_.”

 

“I _would_.”

 

“You don’t even know if he would like you!”

 

“Daichi” Oikawa met his eyes with burning intensity. “ _Everyone_ likes me. And, as you fine well know, I _always_ get what I want.”

 

Daichi swallowed. “I really, really hate you, Oikawa.”

 

Oikawa smiled.

 

***

 

After Oikawa left (was thrown out) Daichi had the rest of the afternoon to himself. Which basically meant talking to his fish, adjusting to couch-confinement, and trying to pretend that he wasn’t just waiting for Suga to come over like a puppy waiting at the door all day for its owner to return from work.

 

Which was, of course, _exactly_ what he was doing.

 

He took a few calls from concerned colleagues, who insisted that _no, he wasn’t need at school, he was best resting at home, and considering he hadn’t missed a day of work since he had started he really had better just take the time off and relax._ Which was unfortunate, as Daichi really sucked at relaxing. He had an active job for a reason. He needed to be _busy_.

 

When Suga arrived at last, Daichi’s first instinct was to jump up from his seat, which was unfortunate, given his condition.

 

“What are you doing? Sit down at once!” Suga staggered through the door, laden with carrier bags.

 

Daichi groaned. “I swear I’ve done nothing else all day. I’m going mad!”

 

“Well you better get used to it. That cast isn’t coming off anytime soon.” Suga vanished into the kitchen. There was a thump which sounded like the bags being dropped onto the table.

 

Daichi grabbed his crutches and hobbled through to the kitchen. “You didn’t have to go shopping for me. I think Kuroo and Kenma got me enough food to survive an apocalypse.”

 

“I know.” Suga laughed. “But I bet they didn’t shop for what I have in mind!” He began pulling bags of flour and sugar out and setting them on the table. He then placed his hands flat on the counter, grinning at Daichi expectantly.

 

“Uuh…”

 

“Cookies, Daichi!”

 

Daichi broke into a grin. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun! I mean, if that’s ok with you…” Suga trailed off nervously.

 

“Suga.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You are a life-saver.”

 

Suga chuckled. “Literally!”

 

Daichi quickly surrendered any illusion of control when he realised that Suga was not one to be messed with in the kitchen.

 

He found himself quite content to be ordered around by Suga, even if that left him with the tasks which involved the least movement – namely mixing and stirring.

 

“Do you bake a lot, Suga?”

 

“When the mood takes me. I was planning on making you something as a kind of sorry–about–your–leg thing, but then I figured, you’ve been sitting around all day, it would be way more fun to come over here and make something with you!”

 

“Aaw.” Daichi hid his blush by holding the spoon up above the mix, letting the liquid drip back into the bowl in a series of small splatters. A juvenile grin stole across his face.

 

“Don’t you _dare_ lick that,” Suga ordered without turning.

 

Smirking, Daichi waited for Suga to turn back in his direction before shoving the head of the spoon into his mouth. He pulled it out slowly, holding eye-contact all the while. Finishing with a lick of his lips in one last act of rebellion, Daichi made the most appreciative noises possible as he returned the spoon to the countertop.

 

He wondered for a second if he had genuinely angered Suga – there was a flush creeping up his neck, and his mouth was hanging slightly open, eyes blown wide.

 

“Suga-?”

 

Quick as a flash, Suga dipped his hand in the flour, before lightly dusting a pinch of the contents over Daichi’s head.

 

Daichi’s jaw dropped as he blinked flecks of white from his vision. Suga smirked, waiting for his reaction.

 

Daichi’s eyes moved back to the bag of flour. Suga followed his gaze.

 

They both made a grab for it in the same moment.

 

The pressure of their hands sent a cloud of flour up into the air, coating the pair of them in white and prompting a joint coughing fit.

 

As soon as the cloud settled, Suga burst out laughing.

 

“Oh Daichi, look at you! _”_ Suga began ruffling flour out of Daichi’s hair, sending yet another cloud of white into the air. “And your _clothes_!” The laughter in Suga’s voice did strange yet pleasant things to Daichi’s stomach. After tousling Daichi’s hair to his satisfaction, Suga moved on to brushing off Daichi’s shoulders, which Daichi enjoyed more than he was willing to admit.

 

Suga began to straighten up, but came to a stop level with Daichi, his eyes wide.

 

“What is it?”

 

“You’ve – ah – got a bit here…” Suga pointed hesitantly to Daichi’s cheek. Daichi swiped his hand across his face.

 

“Did I get it?”

 

“No. Uh, let me…” Suga brought his hand to the side of Daichi’s head, swiping his thumb slowly across Daichi’s cheek. They were so close that Daichi could hear Suga’s slow, shaky breaths.

 

“You have…a little bit as well…” Daichi hesitantly reached his hand upwards, running his finger along Suga’s temple. He could have sworn he felt the tiny gust of air that slipped past Suga’s lips.

 

Their eyes met.

 

Daichi couldn’t be sure, but it felt as though Suga was moving slowly, almost imperceptibly closer. Suga hadn’t removed his hand from its place on the side of his head, and Daichi’s was still by Suga’s hairline, and as he moved a lock of hair brushed against Daichi’s skin. The desire to brush it behind Suga’s ear, or better yet ball his fists in Suga’s hair and pull him in was almost too much.

 

And as these thoughts flashed through Daichi’s mind, Suga _still_ hadn’t removed his hand, and his gaze had dropped to Daichi’s mouth, and Daichi found himself mirroring the action, noticing that Suga’s lips were parted slightly. He wondered if they were as warm, as soft as they looked.   

 

The pair jumped when Suga’s mobile rang. Suga drew back with a mumbled apology, his face red, to yank his phone from his pocket with fumbling fingers.

 

“What’s up, Asahi?” he began breathlessly.

 

Daichi was about to tune out – perhaps return his attention to the abandoned cookie batter - when Suga’s hand flew up to his mouth.

 

“I – I’ll be right over!” Suga jerked the phone away from his ear as though it were red-hot, pressing the end call button with a trembling finger.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Suga returned his phone to his pocket, his face pale.

 

“I’m really sorry, Daichi. There’s been an emergency, I have to go.” Suga pulled his coat over his shoulders as he spoke.

 

“Emergency?! Is someone hurt?”

 

“I-” Suga stood in the doorway for a moment, choking back a sob. “I don’t know. I’ll phone you later.”

 

Daichi wished there were some words of comfort he could offer, but as Suga turned away Daichi could see a focused mask of calm slipping into place. He had forgotten that in Suga’s line of work, being detached and capable in a crisis were all part of the job. Suga could cope with whatever was being thrown at him. Of that, Daichi was sure.

 

But when the door slammed Daichi couldn’t help but feel, deep down in the dark where only instinct lived, that something was very wrong.

 

His suspicions were confirmed, when, not long after, his phone rang too.

 

***

 

Daichi’s flat wasn’t far from Noya and Asahi’s, yet when Suga caught sight of the flashing blue and red lights his lungs were burning from running. The hot smoke billowing into the air didn’t help.

 

The whole damn _building_ was on fire.

 

Suga staggered to a halt, allowing himself only a moment of panic. He clamped his hand over his mouth and gagged as the hot embers scratched at his throat and bile surged in his throat. After allowing himself a second of retching, he clamped his mouth shut and straightened, shutting off his panic as though he were turning off a tap.

 

He found Asahi sobbing by one of the ambulances, a blanket around his shoulders.

 

“Th-the building was like that when I got here! And Noya, nobody’s seen Noya, th-they think he’s still – still…” Asahi began shaking violently, unable to speak but gesturing wildly in the direction of the building. “I wanted to go in, but they’ve blocked it all off… I can’t get near…” Asahi’s voice cracked into a sob, and the scratch at the back of Suga’s throat returned. He pulled Asahi in against him so that he could hide his face.

 

“It’s going to be ok. The fire brigade will do everything they can,” Suga whispered into Asahi’s shoulder. He didn’t know if his words were any comfort to Asahi; they certainly weren’t to himself.

 

Imagining Noya, so lively, so happy, and ready to propose to his boyfriend…

 

Imagining him trapped in a burning flat in that very moment, lungs burning with smoke, flames licking their way towards him, unable to so much as scream-

 

Suga’s heart went cold.

 

When asked about it later, he couldn’t for the life of him say how long they waited there. Torrents of water tore into the flames, yet the blaze did not die. Pedestrians gathered to watch in awe, mingling with the former residents who watched their home burn to the ground with dull shock. Firemen and firewomen bustled back and forth, wiping sweat from their brows. It was so hot, and the air that Suga forced into his lungs was so sticky with heat that the whole exercise felt futile. There was no oxygen to be had in the air. There was only heat and smoke.  

 

From the entrance to the crumbling building there was a sudden flurry of movement as firefighters yelled to each other and rushed forwards. A moment later Suga saw why. He straightened, muscles stiff from the waiting, and watched as his heart hammered in his chest. Asahi gripped his hand, with white knuckles. His lips were set in a grim line and the shaking of his shoulders had slowed to intermittent twitching.

 

A tall figure in a firefighter’s uniform emerged, a small body cradled in his arms.

 

Suga’s heart slowed to a stop. Asahi’s grip tightened to bone-crushing levels.

 

“No. Oh God, please, no-!” That was all he heard before Asahi rushed forwards, tearing past the hurriedly-erected safety barriers. Voices called for them to stop, but both were deaf to them in their panic. The firefighter had cleared the building, and Asahi reached the pair just as they were swarmed with medics. Suga was in hot pursuit, holding in a shout when he noticed the familiar bleached strand of hair amidst the brown, darkened with soot.

 

“Noya? Noya?” Asahi pleaded, his hands shaking violently as he stooped over the tiny form. Paramedics busied around them, pulling an oxygen mask over Noya’s terrifyingly still face. “Yuu?” Asahi whispered.

 

Noya’s eyes fluttered open. He mumbled something unintelligible into the oxygen mask.

 

“What?” Asahi leaned forwards, brushing tears from his eyes.

 

“I guess I fucked up those cookies pretty bad, huh.” Noya smiled up at them, dimples smudged with soot. He reached for Asahi’s hand with an arm that trembled with fatigue.

 

Asahi made a noise between a laugh and a sob, and Suga turned his attention away to allow them a moment of privacy. That was when his attention fell on the firefighter who had carried Noya from the building.

 

The medics were busying around him in a manner far more panicked than that of the ones dealing with Noya. And although Suga had seen the man walk from the building unaided, he now looked to have collapsed from either exhaustion or injuries. Suga didn’t need a medical degree to know something was very wrong.

 

When they pulled off the helmet to expose a mess of black hair drenched in red, Suga realised.

 

The fireman was Kuroo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eyes "light angst" tag nervously* well, frick.
> 
> Next week: pain. so much pain.


	7. The One Where Oikawa Ruins Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody likes hospitals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter because I couldn't stop before my favourite scene. ;)

Kenma had, in many ways, been expecting the call. Kuroo’s job, like it or not, was a risky one. And Kuroo was a risk-taking kind of guy.

 

He just hadn’t expected that it would be _today_ , that it would be _now._

 

He supposed the timing of it wasn’t all that important. He had finally fixed his life, found what he had always been looking for with Kuroo, and now…

 

Now… 

 

But it wasn’t as though their relationship mattered in the face of something like this. If it had happened a week earlier, a month earlier, he would have been no less upset.

 

The thought brought Kenma little comfort.

 

He knew some of the other guys Kuroo worked with, and knew how they saw him. Kuroo was a strong leader, devoted to his work, fearless even in the most dangerous of situations. But Kuroo’s greatest strengths were also his greatest weaknesses. He was too brave. Too reckless. Too willing to sacrifice himself for any member of the team or random civilian.

 

They joked that Kuroo’s behaviour would land him in trouble sooner or later.

 

And now trouble was calling Kenma, telling him through the means of a crackling distant voice on the other end of the phone that the day had come, that Kuroo had been so hell-bent on pulling some stranger out of a burning building that he had thrown all regard for personal safety out of the window and gotten himself hurt. Badly.

 

Kenma wasn’t good at crises, and he wasn’t good at dealing with his emotions. Most people would have dashed out of the door as soon as they heard their partner was hurt. Kenma did not. He paced. He panicked. He pulled himself together. He shoved some things into a bag and _then_ he headed for the hospital.    

 

He stepped over the cat as he made his way through the door. Altair looked up at him with wide, worried eyes, as though he knew. Maybe the stupid animal understood why this had happened; Kenma certainly didn’t. 

 

When he got there, he found a waiting room full of the familiar faces of Kuroo’s closest colleagues. Yaku’s expression was grim as he held his arm around Lev, whose head was buried in his shoulder, bottom lip trembling. Beside them, Yamamoto was twitching with nervous energy as he scowled at the floor with enough energy to burn holes through it.

 

He didn’t waste time on words. “Which room?”

 

“N1. But Kenma-!”

 

He didn’t wait around for the end of the sentence, dashing down several lengths of corridor and ignoring the shouts of objection that followed. By the time he found the right room his shoulders were heaving up and down. He reached for the doorknob with a sweat-slicked hand and let himself into the room. 

 

When his eyes fell on Kuroo, he felt the air leave his lungs in one heavy blow.

 

Kuroo had a mask fitted around his nose and mouth, and tubes ran from his arm to bags of clear liquid hanging from a drip. His skin was stained dark with soot in sharp contrast with the crisp blank sheets and sterile bandages that chocked his head and upper body.

 

“Kuroo,” Kenma whispered.

 

Kuroo’s eyes were closed, his expression clear. But Kenma knew that this wasn’t sleep. When Kuroo slept, he splayed his limbs out in every direction, twisting the sheets around him in a tangle and more often than not ending up with his head where his feet should have been, with Kenma curled up somewhere around his chest. But here he lay flat on his back like a bandaged Egyptian mummy, constrained, unnatural.  

 

Kenma spared a glance for the computer which blipped out readings he couldn’t expect to understand, before finding himself at Kuroo’s side without remembering moving.

 

This was impossible. This was not the Kuroo Kenma had said goodbye to earlier that same day. That Kuroo had been smiling, laughing, affectionate, pulling Kenma into him to brush his lips against his forehead before waving him goodbye in the early-morning sun.

 

That Kuroo had been safe. Healthy. Happy.

 

In comparison with that, this Kuroo was a mere ghost, his former self having been blown away like sand. 

 

Kenma felt a surge of something in his throat, but quickly pushed it down before he could identify the emotion, because he knew that if he started letting out those kinds of feelings he wouldn’t be able to stop.

 

“Kuroo?” He whispered again, ignoring the choked and ragged sound that bared little resemblance to his own voice.

 

The bleeping computer and the sound of laboured breathing was his only reply.

 

He reached out and threaded his fingers through Kuroo’s soot-smudged, cold, limp hand. He tried to match that hand to the one that had cupped his cheek, pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, held him close.

 

“Kuroo, please.”

 

He may as well have been pleading with an empty room.

 

 ***

 

Asahi had been sobbing more or less constantly for the entire ambulance ride, through being processed at A&E, and was still going strong when Noya was moved into a room of his own.

 

Noya spent this time jumping sporadically between teasing Asahi for crying, reassuring the glass-hearted man that he was _totally fine so there’s no need to cry, really_ and breaking into coughing fits that sounded as though he was trying to throw up his own lungs.

 

Suga felt like one of those frantic parents that flooded supermarkets on weekends with their screaming/sobbing/hyperactive/hysterical children, trying to keep an eye on each at once while simultaneously buying the week’s groceries. Kuroo was injured, badly, and probably somewhere in the hospital. Kenma and Daichi, those who were closest to him, were either oblivious or going out of their minds with worry. Noya was breathing with all the ease and comfort of a 50-a-day smoker. And Asahi was _still crying_.

 

“Asahi!” Noya slapped the larger man’s back, bouncing up and down on the bed. “You could have put out the fire yourself with all these tears!”

 

Asahi made a noise closer to a hiccup than a giggle. “I don’t _understand,_ Nishinoya. What on earth possessed you to _cook?_ After _last time?_ ”

 

“What are you talking about? I cook curries for you guys all the time!”

 

Asahi and Suga shared a look.

 

“Noya…” Suga spoke gently. “We know you just get a take-out and hide the packaging. You don’t have to hide it anymore. We know you haven’t cooked since the pasta incident.”

 

Noya’s jaw dropped. “My whole life is a lie.”

 

Asahi shrugged. “You made an effort for us. And it tasted better than your food-poisoning pasta.”

 

“Well. I see how a little incident like near-deadly pasta could put one off cooking for their loved ones, but I was _baking_. It’s _completely_ different.”

 

“No better outcome,” Suga muttered. Noya pointedly didn’t respond.

 

“Baking? Why?!” Asahi’s brow creased in confusion.

 

Noya’s cheeks reddened, and he scowled at an invisible point on the wall. “wnn’ d smth niss” He mumbled unintelligibly.

 

“What?” Asahi leaned towards Noya’s blushing face.

 

“I WANTED TO DO SOMETHING NICE! FOR OUR ANNIVERSARY!”

 

It was Asahi’s turn to go red. “Ah, Nishinoya. You didn’t have to do that! I thought we were waiting for the weekend!”

 

“Well, I wanted to.” Noya scowled again. “But instead I set fire to the flat. And ruined everything.” His voice remained steady, but Suga noticed the tension in his shoulders as he crossed his arms over his chest, fingernails digging into his skin. 

 

“No, Nishinoya.” Asahi unfolded Noya’s arms, taking Noya’s tiny hands in his giant ones. “You just scared us a bit.”

 

“Y-You’re sure? I haven’t ruined everything?”

 

Asahi shook his head so hard his bun wobbled.

 

“Then…would now be a good time to ask you a question?” Noya reached into his pocket to pull out a small, red box.

 

***

 

Before the phone started ringing, Daichi had been panicking for two reasons.

 

Reason one: Something bad had happened involving one of Suga’s friends. How bad or to whom, Daichi didn’t know; all he knew was that Suga was upset, and what upset Suga upset him.

 

Reason two: if Suga’s phone hadn’t rung when it did… What would have happened?

 

He hadn’t imagined the whole thing. He was sure of that much.

 

He had been seconds from kissing Suga.

 

But that wasn’t what puzzled Daichi the most.

 

The thing was, he had the strangest yet strongest feeling…that Suga would have kissed him back.

 

But that didn’t make sense. Suga didn’t like him. The time Daichi had drunkenly kissed Suga still burned shamefully at the back of his mind. Suga hadn’t wanted to kiss him then. Suga hadn’t felt the same way.

 

Had something changed?

 

When his phone rang he froze for a moment in panic. It was probably Suga, checking in with him as promised. But how should Daichi act? What should he say?

 

_Don’t be an idiot_ , he told himself sternly. _That…moment doesn’t mean anything has changed. Act as you always do._

He grabbed the receiver before he could let himself start over-thinking again.

 

“Daichi, it’s Kenma.”

 

“Kenma?” Immediately Daichi knew something was wrong. Kenma hated phone calls. A situation serious enough for Kenma to forsake text messaging… Well.  It was never a good sign.

 

“I’m at the hospital with Kuroo. You need to come here now. Please.” The monotone so characteristic of Kenma’s voice collapsed as his voice began to crack.

 

Daichi’s heart went cold. “Kuroo-?”

 

“He was hurt while he was at work. I need you here. Please.” The last word was not one Daichi was used to hearing from Kenma. It sounded too desperate, too panicked-

 

“I’m on my way.” Daichi tried to stand despite the weakness in his knees, wincing as he accidently put weight on his bad leg.

 

The phone went dead as Daichi was pulling on his coat.

 

***

 

None of the hospital staff would tell Suga anything about Kuroo as he wasn’t a next of kin. He couldn’t even be sure the guy was in this hospital.

 

He was on his way to get himself a tea from the cafeteria – God knew it had been a long enough day – when someone walked into him with a thump, sending the pair tumbling to the floor.

 

“Suga?!” Daichi yelped as he reached for his scattered crutches. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Noya was injured in a fire, they brought him here - and Daichi, I saw Kuroo being taken away in an ambulance, is he here too?”

 

“Yeah, I’m on my way now.”

 

“Should I – Do you want me to-?”

 

“Yes.” Daichi took Suga’s hand as the other helped to pull him back onto his feet. “Please come.”

 

Suga almost asked how bad it was – he had only caught a glimpse of Kuroo, after all – but the clamminess of Daichi’s hand in his and his ashen-coloured cheeks were answer enough to his question.

 

He followed Daichi as he hobbled through the corridors until they at last came to a door marked _N1_.

 

There was nearly a further accident when they opened the door and almost charged into a nurse.

 

“Ah! Sorry, only three people at once! Or it’ll be too crowded!” The tiny blonde nurse squeaked, nearly dropping her clipboard in her panic.

 

“Its fine, we were just leaving.” Two fireman left the room, one tall and one small. Both were dusted in soot, their bodies shaking with fatigue as they made their way past. None of them made eye-contact.

 

When they entered at last they found a room that was blindingly white, smelling of disinfectant and strangely cold. Suga shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, wishing the place didn’t remind him quite so strongly of a morgue. Only the machine hooked up to Kuroo was making any sound, the constant beeping reminding them all of the delicate boundary between life and death.

 

Kenma gave them the barest of glances upon their entry. He was perched precariously on the side of the bed, his hand clutching Kuroo’s. His bleached hair tumbled past his ears and shrouded his face, his trembling lower lip the only part still visible.

 

Suga heard Daichi inhale sharply beside him. He rested his hand on Daichi’s back to steady him, even though he too felt as though the world was spinning.

 

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen scenes like this before – he was a doctor, after all. It came with the job.

 

That didn’t mean he was used to it.

 

For a while, nobody spoke. Suga was hit by the sudden feeling that he was intruding. After all, he hadn’t known Kuroo nearly as long as Daichi and Kenma. He didn’t have any right to be there alongside Kuroo’s closest friends.

 

This thought was blown from his mind when he felt Daichi grab his arm with a grip that was tight enough to hurt.

 

Together they approached the bed.

 

“The nurse said he might be able to hear us,” Kenma said at last. “She said talking to him could help. But… I can’t, Daichi. Could you…?” He trailed off, unable to keep his voice from breaking.

 

Kuroo was deathly pale, yet his expression was serene, that of a peaceful sleeper.

 

Daichi sat down in the chair beside his head. “Hey, Kuroo,” He managed to whisper.

 

Suga was sure he could hear the crack as his heart was broken in two by the mere sound of Daichi’s voice.

 

“I guess that’s the both of us been through the wars. Kenma’s probably sick of the sight of this hospital by now,” he joked weakly.

 

Suga watched as Daichi tried to hold himself together. He was trying so desperately to stay strong, but the nails still digging into his arm in a desperate search for strength told Suga that he was close to shattering.

 

“I don’t know if you can hear us or not, Kuroo, but we’re here, me and Suga and Kenma…” Daichi drew in a shuddering breath. “And we’re all here for you, and we’re all hoping for you, and… we all love you, okay? And yes, that includes me. But you better not remember I said that, otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it…” Daichi’s chuckle was too high, too close to a sob.

 

Suga, hearing Daichi’s shaky breaths, brought his free hand up to place on top of Daichi’s hand. Daichi squeezed his arm by way of thanks.

 

The tiny blonde nurse reappeared at the door. “We-we’re taking him for some scans now, so I’m afraid you’ll have to go.”

 

“I’m not leaving him alone,” Kenma replied without moving his gaze from Kuroo’s face.

 

“I-I, uh…” The nurse blushed. “Okay. Okay, as this is such a special case, we can maybe make an exception… but just you.” She glanced at Daichi and Suga. “There won’t be any news for a while, so I recommend that you two go home and rest. The hospital can call you as soon as there’s any change.”

 

Daichi looked as though he was about to object, but Suga cut across him before he could. “She’s right, Daichi.”

 

Daichi closed his mouth with a nod.

 

They said their goodbyes to Kuroo and Kenma as the bed was wheeled from the room, Kenma following at its side.

 

For a second the room was deathly silent, without even the bleeping of the machine to distract them. Suga shivered, missing the monitor, missing its constant affirmation, second by second, that Kuroo’s heart was still beating.

 

“Come on, Daichi.” Suga said, ignoring the slight echo as his words bounced in the empty room. “Let’s get you home.”

 

From the hospital to the taxi to the trip up creaky old lift to the corridor and at last to Daichi’s door. The journey lasted a century at least, without as much as a word from Daichi. He kept his hands clenched in fists, his breaths deep and steady, sliding the key into the lock with hands that shook.

 

He obeyed Suga’s instruction to sit without objection, and waited in silence while Suga started making his own favourite remedy – a hot mug of tea.

 

It was only as Suga was returning to the living room with a mug in each hand that Daichi spoke. “He’s going to be okay.” The confidence in his words was betrayed by the tremor in his voice.

 

“I hope so, Daichi.”

 

Their eyes met, and in the space of a second Daichi’s calm crumbled and shattered into a thousand shards, and Suga saw it happen, saw in the brown depths the image of a man being torn apart.

 

A guttural sound escaped from Daichi as if it had been pulled from his lungs against his will. Suga caught him in his arms as he rocked forwards and the floodgates opened, and that was how they stayed for a long time, Daichi’s face pressed into his shoulder and Suga’s hands bunched up in the fabric of his shirt as he held him close.

 

***

 

The next morning Daichi awoke, for the second time, with Suga lying asleep on his chest.

 

It really was becoming a habit.

 

Seeing Suga blink his eyes sleepily as he looked up at Daichi was almost worth the embarrassment he was sure would come as soon as the haze of sleep vanished from his vision.

 

“Oh,” Suga said, although it could have been a yawn. “I did it again, Daichi, I’m sorry-” He sat up, stretching with a low groan that _was not hot no way not at all_.

 

“No, it’s – it’s fine,” Daichi answered hurriedly. “I’m glad you’re here. I mean, just with everything that’s going on…”

                                                                                                

“I understand.” Suga smiled.

 

“Really.” Daichi blushed. “Thank you, Suga. For everything.”

 

Suga leaned forwards, and for one mad second Daichi thought he was going to kiss him. Instead he ruffled his hair with a chuckle. “That is some marvellous bed-hair, Daichi.”

 

Daichi began laughing too, until the words _bed-hair_ brought Kuroo crashing back into his mind. He pulled his phone from his pocket.

 

“Nothing from Kenma,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual. As soon as the words left his mouth, the phone started ringing in his hand. He answered it immediately. “Kenma? What’s happening?”

 

Suga waited with his breath held while a voice buzzed through the speaker.

 

Daichi ended the call. “He said the scans were a lot more positive than the hospital had expected. They’re going to try injecting him with some adrenaline-based thingy, see it if helps, because he still hasn’t woken up.” He looked at Suga expectantly. “I don’t really know what all that means...”

 

Suga beamed. “It means he’s a lot better than we thought. We should go back and visit later today. Daichi, do you mind if I use your shower?”

 

“No, no, go for it,” Daichi mumbled distractedly. On any other day that question would have brought more than a few inappropriate images to Daichi’s mind, but he was far too busy turning over the ins and outs of Kuroo’s situation in his mind. Kenma had sounded a lot more positive on the phone. Daichi could already feel the hope surging in his chest.

 

The shower purred into life and it wasn’t long before stream was slipping out from under the bathroom door and seeping through the flat, bringing with it a pleasant, humid warmth.  Daichi pulled the curtains and let sunlight bathe the room. He looked out across the rooftops with a sigh.

 

He heard the door to his flat swing open, and the moment of peace ended.

 

“Who’s there?” he yelled as he hobbled back to the couch, vaguely hoping that he wasn’t about to be burgled.

 

“It’s me, your one and only true love!” sang a voice.

 

Oh god. He would have preferred burglars.

 

“Oikawa?” Daichi shouted in a voice that implied that he was not _anyone’s_ true love, least of all his.

 

“Now be nice to me, beautiful boyfriend! I brought _company_!” Oikawa appeared at the doorway seconds later, a dubious Iwaizumi in tow.

 

“Please tell me this is some sort of sick joke,” Iwaizumi growled. “Please tell me you’re not _actually_ dating this fucking idiot.”

 

“But of course he is, Iwa-chan! I’m rather irresistible, you know.” Oikawa bounded onto the couch, settling himself onto Daichi’s lap, which sent twinges up and down Daichi’s leg.

 

“ _I’m going to kill you_ ,” Daichi growled into his ear.

 

Oikawa giggled. His smile, while innocent on the surface, hissed _one wrong move and you’ll regret it_. He slung an arm around Daichi’s shoulders.

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes were wide. “Holy shit. I thought he was joking. Daichi, are you some kind of masochist? Because if you’re going to torture yourself, god knows there’s better ways.”

 

“Oh, I really doubt it,” Daichi replied through teeth clenched into a grin which probably looked more like a grimace.

 

“So mean.” Oikawa flicked Daichi on the forehead.

 

Daichi glared at Oikawa, wondering if the laser-vision he had hoped for his whole life would suddenly kick in and turn Oikawa to dust.

 

“Okay, Oikawa. Point proven. I believe you already.” Iwaizumi shoved his hands into his pockets, somehow looking even more uncomfortable than before.

 

“Yeah, Oikawa. Point proven, you can leave now,” Daichi agreed. Oikawa raised an eyebrow at him, before sliding off his lap.

 

“He’s always so mean, but he loves me, really. A little like you, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa turned to blow a kiss over his shoulder at Daichi, missing the panicked look that shot across Iwaizumi’s face. “We need to head off for volleyball practice. We must train extra hard if we’re going to beat my dear boyfriend’s team… _again!_ ”

 

“Okay, one second.” Iwaizumi’s eyes were fixed upon Daichi.

 

Oikawa waited expectantly.

 

“Go wait in the hall a moment,” Iwaizumi instructed without turning.

 

Oikawa frowned in puzzlement before leaving the room. Daichi wished he had whatever magic Iwaizumi used to get Oikawa to actually listen to him occasionally.

 

Iwaizumi rounded the couch, scowling. Daichi was suddenly reminded of how strong Iwaizumi was. He was one of the most muscular guys Daichi knew, and while that wasn’t particularly his type he could see the attraction. But, more importantly, Iwaizumi had arms that could easily beat the hell out of a guy twelve times before breakfast. Not that Iwaizumi would ever do that – probably.

 

“Listen up, Daichi.” Iwaizumi leaned forwards until his face was inches from Daichi’s. “I don’t know why the hell you agreed to date that idiot out there, why you decided to put yourself through that particular experience in the first place, but I’m going to make one thing very clear: if you hurt him, there will be trouble.”

 

Daichi swallowed.

 

It was at that exact moment that Suga entered the room, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

 

Iwaizumi’s jaw dropped.

 

Suga looked nervously between Daichi and Iwaizumi. “Uh, Daichi? Who is this?”

 

At this point Oikawa burst back into the room, not even trying to pretend as though he hadn’t been listening at the door. “Ah, the famous Mr Refreshing! So lovely to meet you at last!”

 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi growled. “What the hell?”

 

“We are in a _very_ open relationship.” Oikawa chuckled as he shook Suga’s hand.

 

“Daichi?” Suga’s expression was bordering on terrified.

 

“Suga, meet my neighbours. Iwaizumi and Oikawa.” Daichi tried to keep his voice steady in the face of the train wreck that was rushing in his direction.

 

“Neighbour. That’s an odd way of introducing your _boyfriend_.” Iwaizumi arched an eyebrow. Daichi could almost see the wheels turning.

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

Daichi’s world ground to a halt. He turned, slowly, so slowly, to face Suga.

 

“You never said you had a boyfriend.” Suga’s voice was eerily steady.

 

Daichi’s eyes flitted to Oikawa, who looked almost as terrified as he did. He swallowed.

 

“I…” he began. He could feel the eyes of the room weighing upon him.

 

An arm landed across his shoulders.

 

“Now, Daichi.” Oikawa’s tone was dark. “We’ve talked about this before. You have to be _open_ about your relationship status when you’re, ah, with other people.”

 

Daichi’s jaw dropped. His ears were lying to him. They had to be. Sure, Oikawa was a jerk, but at the end of the day he usually did the right thing. Usually.

 

The ice-cold knife that was currently sliding into his back told him otherwise.

 

Through the mist of his internal breakdown and as if from far away, he heard a door shut. He blinked away the panic to see that Suga had left the room.

 

There was probably only so much drama one guy could be expected to face in a towel.

 

At least the fact that Suga was hardly going to storm from the flat until he had dressed bought Daichi some time. He had to fix this.

 

He turned to Oikawa. His face was, for once, open, slack, all the guilt, the panic, the terror written across it in plain view. He had been desperate, a desperate idiot in love.

 

On a better day, Daichi might have understood.

 

But that day was not a better day.

 

His temper snapped.

 

“You. Absolute. Bastard.” Daichi shoved Oikawa’s arm off his shoulder. Everything around him went black as all Daichi’s anger and frustration from the last few days zeroed in on Oikawa before detonating. “I did you a favour! I was _helping_ you, and you do – do this!”

 

“Oikawa, what’s he talking about?” Iwaizumi’s voice shrank into distant dimness, easy for Daichi to ignore.

 

“Daichi.” Oikawa’s face was ghostly pale, and he slowly started backing away, but whatever pleas he had were lost as Daichi stalked forwards, the howling pain in his leg forgotten.     

 

“I agreed to fake-date you on the condition that you _wouldn’t_ mess with me and Suga! That was the one condition, and _you did it anyway_! You – you…” Daichi struggled to control the words that were flying from his mouth, but they were beyond his control. “I hope you’re happy now! I really, really hope that your stupid plan to make Iwaizumi jealous was worth it, because it’s me that’s paying the price!”

 

Once again, time ground to a standstill. Oikawa’s eyes moved from Daichi to Iwaizumi where they came to a stop. He began to shake.

 

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi spoke slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal. “You were doing this to make me jealous?”

 

Oikawa screeched, launching himself forwards at Daichi. Luckily, Iwaizumi intercepted in time, catching an almost feral Oikawa in his arms.

 

For a moment the pair struggled together while Daichi considered yelling to Suga in the next room. There was something about the wild look in Oikawa’s eyes that made him (laughably – it was just _Oikawa_ , the annoying nerdy guy next door who liked aliens and wearing odd socks) afraid for his own safety. No matter how angry Suga was, there was no way he wouldn’t respond to a yell for help.   

 

There was a loud smack, followed by Iwaizumi shouting. “For god’s sake, Oikawa! What are you doing?! Get a grip!”

 

Oikawa fell still, breathing heavily.

 

Tentatively, Iwaizumi released his hold, before placing his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders, breaking the fire-laden glare he had been sending Daichi and turning him so that they were face to face.

 

“Why did you want to make me jealous?” Iwaizumi whispered in a voice that sounded uncharacteristically vulnerable.

 

For a moment, nobody moved.

 

Oikawa’s eyes met Iwaizumi’s, and in the split second that it took for Iwaizumi’s eyes to widen in understanding Oikawa tore himself from Iwaizumi’s grip. He bolted from the room before Iwaizumi could react, and the door to Daichi’s flat slammed shut behind him.

 

Iwaizumi turned to Daichi.

 

Before he could open his mouth, Daichi spoke. “Don’t ask me to explain. Please don’t. You need to hear it from him.”

 

Iwaizumi shut his mouth and nodded. He turned and raced out after Oikawa, letting the door to Daichi’s flat bang shut once more.

 

Daichi blew out a heavy sigh, his ears still ringing.

 

The door to his bedroom clicked open. Suga appeared in the living room doorway, dressed in his rumpled clothes from the night before.

 

Daichi was about to speak when Suga held up his hands to silence him. “I don’t want to hear it Daichi. Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it right now.”

 

Daichi bit his lip, bit back the million useless excuses he knew would have done no good.

 

The silence as Suga headed for the door was heavy, but nowhere near as bad as the silence that crushed Daichi the second Suga closed the door behind him.

 

He was able to bear it for less than a minute.

 

“FUCK!”

 

***

 

Suga was not going to cry. He was not going to cry. He had no right to. He wiped at his eyes as he stormed down the street, paying no regard to the puddles he tore through, even when the water splashed onto the bottoms of his jeans. It wasn’t as though he and Daichi had actually been…anything more than friends. Daichi wasn’t _obligated_ to tell Suga about who he was or wasn’t dating…

 

But he had lied. He had _told_ Suga he wasn’t interested in anyone. They had baked cookies together, comforted each other, fallen asleep together…

 

If Suga had known Daichi was with someone else…

 

He would probably have still done all those things, of course. But he wouldn’t have done them feeling the way he did.

 

If he had _known_ …

 

…he would never have fallen for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the angst. But man, that scene was fun to write. Goddamn it, Oikawa.
> 
> Next week: the amnesiac arrives. 
> 
> It gets less angsty, I swear, I just lost control for a bit.


	8. The One Where Kuroo Wakes Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yup, everyone is really getting sick of this hospital.

Bleep.

 

Bleep.

 

Bleep.

 

Bleep! Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!

 

Kuroo bolted upright so violently that he nearly pulled the IV over. He blinked, taking in the white walls and cool bedsheets, the strange, scratchy hospital gown.  

 

He heard a gasp beside him.

 

He turned towards the sound.               

 

Bleached-bonde hair. Wide eyes.

 

Arms around his neck, hands clutching his head, pulling him in.

 

“Kuroo.” A soft, shaking voice in his ear.

 

Something in his shoulder shifted, sparking jarring bolts of hot pain across his body.

 

“Ow.”

 

“Crap! S-sorry.” He pulled back, his frantic touch turning gentle.  

 

Kuroo looked up at the man before him, whose eyes were watering despite the wobbly smile on his face. There was a name on the tip of Kuroo’s tongue, but for some reason he couldn’t quite reach it. Something was very wrong.

 

“Ok. Uh, I’m really sorry, but…” Kuroo swallowed. “Who the hell are you?”

 

***

 

When Suga entered Noya’s hospital room, he found him fast asleep, hand tangled in Asahi’s hair as the giant laid his head across his partner’s chest.

 

Suga took a seat in the spare chair, unwilling to disturb either of them. Some small noise must have reached Noya’s keen ears and his eyes blinked eyes open. A smile broke out across his face upon catching sight of Suga.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Suga raised an eyebrow. “More like afternoon, sleepy head.”

 

Noya yawned. “We were up so late. Talking about wedding plans and stuff. I volunteered to make the wedding cake, but for some strange reason Asahi didn’t like the idea.”

 

Suga smiled. “I wonder why that could be.”

 

Noya coughed, his heaving chest causing Asahi to stir.

 

“Mpffffff.” He yawned, before turning to Noya. “Morning, little fiancé.”

 

“Morning, giant fiancé.” Noya leaned forwards until their noses bumped together, causing the pair to giggle. Asahi responded by pressing his lips against Noya’s, smiling all the while.

 

Suga, much to his surprise, found himself smiling too. Seeing Asahi and Noya safe and happy together was doing wonders for his mood.

 

“And good morning to you too, Suga!” Asahi turned to face him. “Actually, it’s a good job you’re here. We were wondering if we could ask a huge favour of you.”

 

“Anything.” Suga said generously.

 

“Well, you know how our flat is a little…burnt at the moment?” Noya began.

 

“Yes…”

 

“We were hoping we could maybe stay with you for a few days,” Asahi continued. “Just until we find somewhere else-”

 

“Assuming,” Noya interrupted with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You don’t have anyone else staying with you at the moment.”

 

“Ah.” Suga blushed. “No – no there’s nobody else. You can stay.”

 

He could tell from the faces of the pair before him that his casual tone had been less than convincing.

 

“Is something wrong, Suga?” Asahi turned on his concerned face – the one that made even the most difficult patients melt. It was, unfortunately, an expression which Suga was very vulnerable to.

 

“There’s – it’s nothing.” Suga tried to smile brightly, but it only served to make Noya’s eyes narrow even further.

 

“Suga,” he said with a tone that said _no arguing_. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

 

Suga sighed. “Remember how I asked you to stop calling that patient a dickhead?”

 

“The one you like? Yeah.”

 

“Well, I’m withdrawing my request. You may resume the dickhead-calling.”

 

Noya opened his mouth, presumably to shout something unhelpful like _I told you so!_

 

Asahi silenced him with a look. “Are you okay, Suga?”

 

Suga smiled weakly. “I will be. But don’t worry about me. Worry about all the awful rom-com films I’m going to force you both to watch with me!”

 

Suga and Asahi’s chuckles were almost drowned out completely by Noya’s shrieks.

 

On reflection, Suga decided he would be glad of their company. Right now, he really didn’t feel like being on his own.

 

He glanced out the window, where black storm clouds were rolling across the sky. He tried not to match the colour to the exact shade of _someone’s_ hair, and failed.

 

Dark clouds and dark hair. It was going to be one hell of a day.

 

***

 

“He doesn’t remember _anything_?”

 

“No, he remembers some stuff. Just nothing more recent than a few years back.”

 

“So…” Daichi swallowed. “He didn’t recognise you?”

 

“No,” Kenma replied, jaw clenched. “They think it’s related to his head injury, but beyond that they have no idea.” He drew his knees up to his chin, paying no mind to the dirty look he received from the receptionist as the mud from his shoes smeared into the seat fabric.

 

“So how is he? With the memory loss and all?”

 

Kenma paused. “Pretty shaken up. He wants to see you, though. He still knows who _you_ are, at least.” He almost sounded bitter. Daichi decided to let it slide.

 

He instead took a moment to study Kenma’s expression, but as usual drew a blank. “Are you coming in with me?”

 

“I will. But it’s better for him to talk to someone familiar right now. Someone he can still remember.” Kenma’s voice wobbled, betraying him.

 

 “Okay. Okay.” Daichi nodded.

 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he entered Kuroo’s room. The call from Kenma had been…confusing. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or upset. Kuroo was awake, but with a hole the size of Russia in his memory. He didn’t like to imagine how Kenma was feeling at the moment. The man he loved had no idea who he was – Daichi tried to picture himself in the same situation and failed. It was too strange.

 

Kuroo looked up upon hearing the door open. His shoulders were tensed, but the sight of Daichi sent a cautious half-smile to his lips. “Sawamura.”

 

“Hey, Kuroo.” Daichi tentatively took a seat. “You remember me?”

 

“Of course I do, you’re my roommate.” Confusion clouded his features. “Or you were. I guess we aren’t at university anymore. Apparently I’ve, uh, missed some stuff.”

 

Daichi nodded. “Are you feeling okay?”

 

Kuroo shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, it doesn’t feel like I’ve forgotten anything. Like you’re all just messing with me or something.”

 

“I wish that was all it was, man. But we’re not messing with you”

 

Kuroo smiled slightly. “Sounds like something someone who was messing with me would say.” 

 

There was a polite knock at the door. Daichi turned, his heart almost stopping when he saw Suga standing in the doorway, looking through him as though he wasn’t there.

 

“Who’s this, Daichi?” Kuroo’s eyes moved curiously between the pair.

 

“Uh, this is Suga. He’s my…” Daichi trailed off, panicking as the appropriate ending to the sentence refused to come.

 

“I’m his doctor,” Suga finished curtly, striding past Daichi to Kuroo’s side without sparing Daichi so much as a glance. “Kenma told me you had woken up so I thought I’d come and visit. It’s good to have you back.”

 

“Some of me, anyway,” Kuroo muttered.

 

“Oh, of course, memory loss. I’m guessing you can’t remember anything about me at all.”

 

Kuroo nodded, his shoulders hunched. “I got nothing. Are you a friend of Daichi’s?”  

 

Suga’s eyes flashed with pain for a second, but as usual he quickly buried it. “Daichi introduced me to you. I haven’t known you very long, but I would like to think we’re friends.” He said Daichi’s name with some reluctance, still refusing to meet his gaze.

 

Daichi couldn’t help but be stung by Suga’s new coolness, yet he knew he deserved it.

 

Kuroo smiled weakly. “Good to meet you.”

 

Suga chuckled. “And you. Again. Oh, and I know you might not feel quite like yourself right now, but I want you to know I have two friends outside, and one of them is only alive because of you. You risked your life to save him, and I can’t possibly thank you enough.”

 

Kuroo’s cheeks reddened. “It’s not like I remember doing it or anything,” he mumbled.

 

“Hey, do you think meeting the guy you saved might help trigger your memories?” Daichi interrupted. The pair turned to look at him. “Could it?” He directed his question at Suga, who gave Daichi his reluctant attention at last.

 

“Maybe. Memory loss really isn’t my field of expertise, but it’s worth a try, certainly.” Suga turned back to Kuroo. “Do you want to give it a go?”

 

“Uh, sure. Okay.”

 

Suga darted outside. Kuroo gave Daichi an expectant look.

 

“What?!”

 

“What is the _deal_ with you and that guy? He’s looking at you like you pissed in is cereal!”

 

Daichi rolled his eyes at the choice of imagery. “It’s…a long story. Like, _really_ long.”

 

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. Daichi sighed heavily. “I’ll explain later,” he muttered as Suga returned with Nishinoya and another man Daichi vaguely recognised from the doctor’s practice in tow. 

 

Upon catching sight of Kuroo, the giant rushed forwards, stifling a sob. “Thank you, thank you so much-!” He pulled Kuroo into a bone-crushing hug.

 

“Asahi, mind his _injuries_ ,” Suga protested weakly.

 

“It – it was nothing, really.” Kuroo’s face was flushed. “I don’t even remember saving you.”

 

“What?” Asahi’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “No – no, you didn’t save me, you saved my boyfriend – I mean, my fiancé – but if you hadn’t been there to get him out, I don’t know what I would have-!”

 

“Asahi, you’re stressing out again!” Noya bounced up behind him. He came to a stop when his gaze fell on Daichi, his eyes narrowing. “Ah. The dickhead.”

 

“NOYA!” Suga exclaimed, mortified.

 

“What? I’m not at work, I can be as rude as I like. And anyway, _you said_ -!” Whatever Nishinoya was about to say was lost as Suga burst into a conveniently-timed coughing fit.

 

“Wow,” Kuroo interrupted, “Daichi, I don’t know who this guy is, but I already like him.”

 

He held up his uninjured hand which Noya hi-fived enthusiastically.

 

Suga brought his coughing fit to an awkward end. “Kuroo, this is my friend Nishinoya. He’s a secretary at the doctor’s practice where Asahi and I work. You saved his life.”

 

Noya nodded earnestly. “I would be literal toast right now if it wasn’t for you! So thanks.” His expression suddenly turned serious, and he clenched his fists. “And also…I’m really sorry!”

 

Kuroo frowned. “What for?”

 

“The fire. It was my fault. And if you hadn’t been dragging my butt from the building you wouldn’t have been hurt, and…yeah,” Noya finished lamely.

 

Kuroo blinked. “You don’t need to apologise.”

 

Noya nibbled at his lip, unconvinced.

 

“Really!” Kuroo continued. “I mean, my stupid injured brain doesn’t remember becoming a fireman, but I must have known the risks when I got into it, right? It’s part of the job. And…well, it sucks that you started the fire, but if nobody ever started fires then I wouldn’t have a job, would I? So really you did me a favour. You’re keeping me in a job. Contributing to the economy.”

 

“I’m confused,” Daichi interrupted. “Are you encouraging him to start fires now?”

 

“It was an accident!” Noya snarled.

 

“I just kept talking and confused myself,” Kuroo said, troubled.

 

“Okay, I may not be your doctor, but I think it’s clear that you need some peace and quiet. Come on, you two! Out!” Suga started chivvying Asahi and Noya in the direction of the door, pausing only long enough to allow Asahi to stammer out one last exclamation of gratitude.

 

Daichi bit his lip as he watched Suga vanish from sight. If Suga left now, he didn’t know when he would see him again. He had to do something, _anything_.

 

“I have no idea what’s going with you and that guy,” said Kuroo, interrupting Daichi’s train of thought. “But you should probably go after him and sort it out.”

 

“Thanks, Kuroo.” Daichi pushed himself up with his crutches. “Stay here, I won’t be long.”

 

“Yeah, because I’m totally going to go wandering off with an IV in my arm,” Kuroo muttered flatly.

 

Daichi stumbled out into the corridor to see the trio leaving. Noya was hanging from Asahi’s neck, piggy-back style, and Suga walked at their side, his lips quirking upwards at their antics.

 

“Suga!”

 

The three turned, and Daichi was faced with expressions ranging from nervous (Asahi) to downright hostile (Nishinoya).

 

Suga crossed his arms. “Yes?”

 

“Could I…” Daichi swallowed. “Could I please talk to you for a minute?”

 

Suga continued to watch him with narrowed eyes.

 

“Uh… alone?”

 

Asahi glanced at Suga, who gave him the tiniest nod. Still carrying Nishinoya on his back, he turned around and set off down the corridor, ignoring the grumbles of protest from his passenger.

 

“Well?” Suga started to tap his foot. Daichi felt like a little kid who had been sent to the headmaster’s office.

 

“Look, I realise this morning was a mess, and I know this line is cliché as hell, but it’s not what it looks like.”

 

He could tell from the look on Suga’s face that he hadn’t said the right thing.

 

“Then what the hell _is_ it, Daichi?! What _is_ this, any of it?!” Suga exploded. Only a volcanic eruption could have come close to such heat. “Because first you tell me you’re not interested in anyone, and then suddenly a boyfriend appears out of thin air! I really don’t know what to think!”

 

“Look, Suga, he isn’t – we aren’t-”

 

“Aren’t dating? You know, I had a really weird feeling you’d say something like that. It doesn’t matter anymore. I think that at the moment our lives are both too stressful to keep playing this game, whatever it is, so for one minute I want you to stop messing me around and answer this one question. And I swear, if it isn’t the truth this time…”

 

Daichi opened his mouth, but Suga held up his hand. “Daichi. Is there someone you’re interested in at the moment? Romantically?”

 

Daichi’s world ground to a standstill. He couldn’t lie to Suga. Not again. Another lie would destroy their friendship – but so would the truth.

 

Daichi swallowed. “Yes.” He looked Suga directly in the eyes. “I am.”

 

“Right.” Suga’s face slackened as he was momentarily floored. “Well…Thank you for being honest with me.”

 

Daichi nodded, his shoulders tensed as he waited for the questions he was sure would follow, questions that he wouldn’t be able to answer. It was obvious, wasn’t it? He had kissed Suga in a moment of drunken idiocy, after all. If Suga hadn’t guessed Daichi liked him already, then surely now-

 

“I…I don’t think it’s fair to ask you for anything more than that. The rest is your own business.” Suga clenched and unclenched his fists. Daichi let out a cautious sigh of relief.

 

“Are…are you okay with that? With me?” He ventured.

 

“No.” Suga met his gaze. “I’m not. But that’s my problem. Not yours. So I’m sorry, Daichi, but…” His voice cracked slightly. “I don’t think we can keep being friends.”

 

“What?! But Suga-!”

 

“Don’t, Daichi. Please. I just can’t do this. Not now.”

 

“I don’t understand!”

 

“No, you don’t. Goodbye, Daichi.”

 

And before Daichi knew it, Suga had gone.

 

Outside the window the heavy black clouds that had been growing all morning finally burst, hurling droplets of rain upon the hospital like pebbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, y'all. *finger guns*


	9. The One Where Oikawa Continues to Ruin Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Noya spends a ridiculous amount of time talking about other people's muscles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a great new year, everyone!

Asahi watched as Noya rocked back and forth impatiently on the balls of his feet. Where his fiancé found this boundless energy was a mystery to Asahi– this was not the stance of a man who had checked out of a hospital less than an hour earlier. This was a coiled spring pressed into a human body, ready to go off at a moment’s notice.

 

“I think we should go back for Suga.” Noya almost vibrated with nervous energy. “Before that guy works his muscular magic and Suga falls into his trap all over again.”

 

“Muscular magic?” Asahi wondered for a moment if Noya needed another night in hospital, perhaps with a quick head examination, before he remembered that his fiancé was always saying things like this.

 

“I think it must be his muscles.” Noya rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Because his personality is clearly awful. And his face is just kinda _meh_ , I think. He doesn’t even have any facial hair, which is pretty pathetic if you ask me. So yeah, it must be his biceps that he used to ensnare Suga. Or maybe his thighs. I dunno, I haven’t seen them.”

 

“Are you _sure_ about this, Noya?”

 

“Asahi.” Noya raised an eyebrow. “You of all people should know about the powers of _muscular seduction_.”

 

“What?! Why me?!”

 

Noya began to wiggle his eyebrows. Then he winked, nudging Asahi lightly with his shoulder.

 

“I wasn’t - I didn’t seduce you with muscles! Did I?! Hey, quit giggling!”

 

Noya ignored him, bent over double with laughter. The laughing suddenly turned into a heavy coughing fit, and Asahi was immediately at Noya’s side, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

 

“But really,” Noya spluttered as the coughing fit passed. “Should we go back for Suga?”

 

Asahi let his hand come to rest on Noya’s shoulder. “He can handle himself, Yuu.”

 

Noya frowned at the wall as if he was trying to burn holes through it. Asahi didn’t doubt that Noya was imagining Daichi’s face under his fierce gaze at that very moment. It was a shame – Suga’s crush had seemed a bit intimidating, sure, but not the irredeemable monster that Noya had described. Yet he couldn’t blame Noya for being protective – even _overprotective_ – when it came to Suga, for Asahi was the same, in his own quietly anxious way. Suga was their friend. They wanted him to be happy. And if this guy was making Suga unhappy, well…  


“Asahi.” Noya suddenly turned his intense gaze onto him, making Asahi jump involuntarily. His partner had an unfortunate knack for making him do that.

 

“Y-Yes, Noya?”

 

“You were nearly crying when we met the fireman guy.”

 

 “Yes?”

 

“You thanked him more times than I did.”

 

“Did I?” Asahi chuckled faintly.

 

“I…I don’t get it.” Noya stood chest to chest with Asahi, staring up with his inescapable brown eyes. “ _I_ was the one in danger. _I_ was the one that could have been hurt. _I_ should be the one that’s all scared and upset. So…why are you the one who’s getting all emotional?”

 

Asahi stared down at him for one long second. “Yuu.” He began in a small voice. “I was sitting outside that burning building for – for I have no idea how long. Just _knowing_ you were in there somewhere, _knowing_ you were in danger, maybe dying, maybe dead-!” Asahi cut himself off abruptly. “I was so _afraid_ , Yuu. More than I’ve ever been in my life, and I’m afraid of practically everything! Call me a coward if you like, but I _never_ want to feel like that again – I thought I had _lost_ you.” His hands moved from Noya’s shoulders to cupping his face, which was blank with shock. “I never want to lose you, Nishinoya Yuu. Never.”

 

“I’m not going _anywhere_.” Noya hooked his arms around Asahi’s neck and pulled him down until their lips met. Asahi inhaled sharply and his hands dropped to Noya’s waist as he pulled his warm body in against him, mind spinning with the sudden intensity. It was Noya that broke the kiss at last with a heavy sigh, but he continued to cling on tightly, staying at eye-level with Asahi. “I’m sorry I scared you. And I’m right here. Always. Okay?”

 

Asahi nodded, feeling his smile returning. “Okay.”

 

“Hey, guys.” Suga appeared from around the corner, grinning slightly at the sight of the pair.

 

“Suga.” Noya’s eyes narrowed. “What happened? Do you need me to fight him?”

 

“No, Noya. But thank you for the offer. It’s all over now. I finished it properly. Whatever “it” was.”

 

“Back to your place, Suga?” Asahi asked delicately.

 

“Yes.” Suga’s smile looked fragile enough to shatter. “I think that would be best.”

 

“Cup of tea and a film?”

 

“Perfect. I have _Love Actually_ or _Just Like Heaven_.”

 

Noya scowled. “I can’t believe I survived a literal towering inferno just to be finished off by you two and your damn rom-coms.”

 

Asahi and Suga chuckled, and the trio set off down the corridor together.

 

***

 

 “How’d it go?” Kuroo asked as Daichi dropped back into his seat.

 

“Catastrophically.” Daichi winced. “More importantly, did meeting Nishinoya help you remember anything?”

 

“Not a bean.”

 

“I’m sorry. It was worth a try.”

 

“Yeah.” Kuroo didn’t try to hide the fact that he was staring at Daichi.

 

Daichi sighed heavily. “What’s the look for?”

 

Kuroo groaned in frustration. “Look, it’s hard enough not knowing what year it is without you hiding things from me too, okay? For the love of God, what is the deal with the silver-haired guy?!”

Daichi screwed up his face in irritation. He didn’t want to talk about this right now. He was still in shock, really. He was sure the horror of the situation would hit at any second, and when it did he really didn’t want Kuroo – or anyone else - to be there. But if he couldn’t talk to Kuroo – no matter what state he was in – he couldn’t talk to anyone. “I think…” Daichi swallowed. “I think I might be in love with him.”

 

He had finally said it. The words were out now, buzzing around the room like insects. But Daichi was tired, far too tired to keep on holding them in. The words had been there from the start, and there was nothing left to do but deal with them. Whatever that entailed.

 

Kuroo’s jaw had dropped. There was a long silence.

 

“You’re…gay?”

 

Oh, yeah. The memory loss. “Bisexual.”

 

“Oh.” Kuroo clasped his hands together awkwardly. “Um, congratulations?”

 

Daichi noted the awkward body language with some concern. But Kuroo couldn’t be _that_ bothered, could he? Kuroo was gay too, even if he didn’t necessarily remember it.  

 

“So…” Kuroo began after yet another pause. “What’s the story?”

 

Daichi explained as best and as quickly as he could, ignoring the raw feeling in his throat as he remembered watching Suga walk away from him.

 

“Sounds pretty bad,” Kuroo said at last.

 

“Yeah.” Daichi absent-mindedly drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair as he turned the situation over in his mind. 

 

“I’ve still got one question, though.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, what the fuck did you do to your leg? And what kind of asshole draws a target on someone’s cast?”

 

Daichi was about to answer when he saw Kuroo’s eyes widen at the sight of something behind him.

 

He turned in his seat to see Kenma standing in the doorway. Since Daichi had last seen him, Kenma had made a visible effort to make himself look more, well, Kenma. He had flattened his tousled hair, and his eyes were no longer circled by red rings. Most significantly, his blank expression was firmly back in place.

 

Kuroo straightened up a little. “Hello again.” His expression was guarded, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be feeling.

 

“Hey.” Kenma took the spare seat beside Daichi, pulling out a game console.

 

“So, uh…” Kuroo coughed. “Daichi says you’re my flatmate?”

 

Kenma moved his eyes momentarily from the game to Kuroo’s face, before returning his attention to the screen. “Yes.”

 

“Uh, Kenma?” Daichi cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m waiting.”

 

“What for?”

 

“For Kuroo to come back.”

 

There was a moment of stunned silence.

 

“Kenma. He’s right _here_.”

 

Kenma turned his cat-like gaze to Daichi. “Not the one I know. Not completely.”

 

The words tumbled out of Daichi’s mouth before he could stop them. “We don’t know if his memory will ever come back, Kenma.”

 

Kenma shrugged. “I’ll wait.”

 

There was something in Kenma’s steady gaze which made Daichi extremely uncomfortable.

 

“Well, uh…I’ll come and visit you again soon?” Daichi turned to Kuroo.

 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Kuroo couldn’t be blamed for his half-hearted response. Kenma’s behaviour was unnerving, even more so than usual.

 

Daichi decided to leave them to it. Whatever method Kenma chose to cope, he just hoped it worked. The pair had been through too much.

 

***

 

Suga, Noya and Asahi had not, as they had planned, immediately returned to Suga’s house, but instead spent the afternoon hiding from the torrential rain in a run-down cinema towards the edge of the city centre. In spite of the sticky floor and faint smell of burnt popcorn the film was just enough of a distraction for them all, even if Noya wasn’t impressed with the choice of genre.

 

It was therefore early evening when Asahi parked his tiny car up on the road by Suga’s house, and a thick darkness was rolling over the sky. Asahi squinted at the row of houses, each with a small front garden lying behind a low picket fence. Suga was luckier than most; few people in the city could afford a back garden, let alone a front one too. Yet, Asahi remembered, luck had nothing to do with it. The house had belonged to Suga’s parents before him, and now it was his.

 

Asahi sighed. “Every house looks exactly the same around here, Suga. I don’t know how you ever find your place.”

 

“It’s easy once you’ve lived here long enough.” Suga murmured, his mind a million miles away. Asahi sighed again, wondering where Suga’s thoughts had taken him.

 

It was while they waited for Noya to climb out from the backseat that Suga suddenly slapped his hand to his head. “Crap!”

 

“Suga said a bad word!” Noya yelled, delighted. “I’m calling the police!”

 

“My house keys are in my coat, and I’ve left it somewhere!”

 

“Ah. Can you remember where?”

 

“I don’t know, the hospital?!”

 

“No, you weren’t wearing your coat when you came in to visit us.” Noya interjected. “I remember because I was thinking that your arms look quite pretty with your shirt sleeves rolled up.”

 

“Oy, Noya!” Asahi protested.

 

“Don’t worry Asahi, your arms are my favourite ones by far.” Noya hooked his arm through Asahi’s to illustrate his point, and Asahi flushed bright red.

 

“You spend far too much time thinking about people’s muscles,” Asahi stammered, enjoying the warmth of Noya pressed against his side.

 

“What would you rather I thought about, hmm?” Noya glanced up at Asahi with mischief in his eyes. Asahi had to take a moment to remember that they had company. He glanced over at Suga, suddenly noticing the ghoulish pallor that had spread over his face.

 

“Suga? What’s wrong? Are you going to faint?!” Asahi reached out to grip Suga’s shoulders, convinced that the other was on the brink of collapse.

 

“I…I rushed off so quickly I forgot to pick up my coat.” Suga’s eyes were wide in horror.

 

“What are you talking about?!”

 

“When I left Daichi’s house this morning.” Suga swallowed. “I left my coat there.”

 

There was a long silence. Noya was the first to break it. “You mean to say that you have now slept over at his house… _twice_.”

 

Suga slapped a hand over his eyes. “I’m _doomed_.”

 

“Give me his address. I’ll break in, knock him out and grab the coat. He won’t know what hit him.” Noya’s tone was worryingly serious. “I could even draw a moustache on his face or something for you while he’s unconscious.”

 

“I’ll go get it now, he doesn’t live far away, _”_ Suga continued, giving Noya’s suggestion exactly the amount of consideration it deserved.

“Shall I drive you there, Suga?” Asahi offered.

 

“No, he’s pretty close, it’s fine. Listen, I left my back window open, you can climb in and wait for me to get back. Put the kettle on, make yourselves at home.”

“Are you sure?” Noya cracked his knuckles. “We can be your backup.”

 

“I’ll manage,” Suga replied dryly. “It’s my fault for leaving it there in the first place.”

 

“Fine.” Noya eyed him suspiciously. “But whatever you do, don’t let any muscular arms ensnare you!”

 

“What?!”

 

“You don’t want to know.” Asahi took Noya by the shoulders, steering him in the direction of the line of houses. “See you soon, Suga!”

 

 The pair waved as Suga set off down the street, before turning back to the silent street.

 

“Right. It’s this house here, isn’t it?” Asahi scratched his head. “God, they all look identical in this light.”

 

“Yep! Definitely this one!” Noya bounded forwards. Asahi, never one to question Noya’s unwavering confidence, followed.

 

***

 

Suga stood in the hallway outside Daichi’s flat, shoulders heaving as he stood before the unremarkable brown door. The paint was peeling a little, and a pair of muddy boots lay abandoned where the door met the wall. Suga nudged them into the corner, thoughts of trip hazards and broken legs flashing through his mind. He wasn’t nervous. Of course he wasn’t. He was just going to nip in, grab the coat, and leave. That was it. He and Daichi were over now – even though they had never really been anything to begin with – yet cutting himself off had been one of the hardest things Suga could remember doing. Would seeing Daichi again hurt? Probably. Would it be awkward? Certainly. But it would be over in a matter of minutes – he just had to pick up the coat and go. That was it. He had _no reason_ to be nervous.

 

He raised his hand to knock on the door, but it swung open with a squeak as soon as he made contact. Suga stumbled into the dark apartment, feeling for a light switch. He wondered why Daichi would leave his door unlocked while his flat was empty with some concern, before sharply reminding himself that it was no longer his business.

 

He flicked the lights on at last, biting back a scream when he saw a figure sitting on the couch, arms crossed.

 

“Oikawa?!”

 

“Oh.” Oikawa, who had been sitting perfectly still in the dark like a leopard waiting to pounce, fingers tented, frowned. “I thought you were Daichi.”

 

“What are you trying to do, give him a heart attack? Because if that’s the effect you’re looking for, you’re going to get it.” Suga leaned against the wall with one hand, breathing heavily.

 

“Heart attack is an exaggeration. A nasty shock would suffice.” Oikawa flicked his hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head.

 

“You’re... you’re just sitting here. In the dark. Waiting for him to turn up. So you can make him jump.”

 

“Pretty much. Well, it will hopefully be followed by a good argument. I could go for one of those right now.”

 

Suga frowned at him for a second. “Why would Daichi want to argue with you? Actually, wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I’m done with whatever is going on between you two, I’m just here to get my coat.”

 

Oikawa straightened, confusion flickering across his features. “You mean he didn’t explain all of this to you?”

 

“I didn’t let him. I don’t want to know anymore. I don’t care, okay?” Suga began to rifle through Daichi’s coat rack, his frustration growing.

 

“There could be a perfectly innocent explanation, for all you know.” Oikawa stood up and started walking towards him, his gaze sharp and focused like that of a predator. The word _innocent_ rolled around his lips as though it belonged there, yet the goosebumps on the back of Suga’s neck told him otherwise.  He wished Oikawa would stop looking at him as though he were his next meal.

 

“He _lied_ to me.” Suga forced himself to make eye-contact and held it. “He _hid_ things from me. He hid you from me, whatever you are to him. It’s too messed up, and I don’t want any more part in it.”

 

“He didn’t.” Oikawa’s easy-going façade from the morning was gone, blown away by Suga could only imagine what, replaced by hauntingly large eyes and an eerie sincerity Suga couldn’t bring himself to trust.

 

“What?” Suga’s mouth was dry, his thoughts scattered.

 

“He didn’t hide me from you. We were never involved. I blackmailed Daichi into pretending we were dating to make my roommate jealous. That’s it. That’s the story.”    

 

Suga froze. “I don’t-”

 

“Except it blew up in our faces, you see. I upset you, turned you against him, and in return he tore my story wide open.” Oikawa smiled, resting an arm on Suga’s shoulder. “So, you see, Daichi and I both have good reason to be mad at each other. I’ve been hiding from my flatmate ever since and, well, you don’t appear to want anything more to do with him.”

 

Suga shook his head in confusion. “Look, I just want to find my coat, and then I’m gone.”

 

“Of course.” Oikawa stepped back and held out his arms, offering up the flat as if it were his own. Suga elbowed past him, scanning the living room, before finally spotting his coat lying on the couch where he had left it.

 

He grabbed it and immediately turned back to the door. Oikawa was acting as though he was waiting for some kind of show down with Daichi, and Suga really didn’t want to be there when it all kicked off.

 

Any hopes of being able to leave in peace vanished when he saw Oikawa leaning against the doorframe, smirking. “You’re still going to scurry on out of his life after everything I’ve told you? I didn’t figure you for the cowardly type.”

 

“Says the guy who just told me he’s been hiding from his roommate all day. Now will you please mind your own business?” Suga straightened his back until he stood nose to nose with Oikawa, making it clear that he had not been making a request but an order.

 

“Oh, I would have. I really would have.” Oikawa’s eyes darkened. “But unfortunately, Daichi and I had an agreement, and he bailed on it. And even more unfortunately – for him - I am feeling particularly vindictive tonight. So I’m afraid to say that I’m going to be messing in what doesn’t concern me. Don’t take it personally.”

 

Before Suga could reply, Oikawa reached towards him and tipped his chin up with one hand, leaning in to press his mouth hard against Suga’s.

 

Suga made a noise that might have been a splutter against Oikawa’s mouth before shoving him away. Oikawa’s back slammed against the wall, his smile showing too many teeth.

 

“I – What – I don’t-” Suga stammered.

 

Oikawa’s smirk didn’t fade, his expression giving no explanation for his actions.

 

For a second they stood there, neither one moving. Behind Oikawa’s smile there was a flicker of worry, or perhaps regret. But before he could put such feelings into words Suga turned and ran.

 

He didn’t even bother with the lift, instead charging straight down the stairwell, paying no attention to where he was going, his mind too busy screaming incoherent exclamations – of confusion, of panic, of revulsion.

 

He was still paying little attention when he burst through the doors to the building, which was how he nearly sent Daichi flying to the ground, crutches and all. But, with the quick reflexes of a volleyball player, he lurched forwards, grabbing Daichi’s arm before he could go tumbling backwards.

 

“Suga?!” Daichi blinked a few times, his eyes wide. Suga’s hand, still on his wrist, felt Daichi’s blood thrumming through his veins.

 

Suga made a noise that could have been a squeak. Then he turned and bolted off down the street without looking back, splashing through puddles as he went.

 

***

 

In the silence of the apartment Oikawa stood alone, the smile sliding from his face.

 

“I probably shouldn’t have done that.” He announced to Daichi’s fish. The fish, unsurprisingly, did not react. He would have to deal with the repercussions later; for the moment there were more pressing issues. He was tired of waiting for Daichi to turn up. It was time to find a place to spend the night.

 

More importantly, he needed to go somewhere Iwaizumi would not find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen,,,,, I love Oikawa but,,,,,,he's under a lot of stress,,,,,,forgive him,,,


	10. The One Where Asahi and Noya get Arrested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the houses on Suga's street looked so damn similar. But Noya had been sure they had the right one.

“Asahi, boost me up a little higher! I’m nearly in!”

 

“Be careful, Noya, _please_!”

 

“Oh, you’re such a _worrier-!_ ” Noya was cut off as he tumbled through the window and into the room with a heavy thump. After a lot of scuffling and wriggling Asahi followed, landing on the carpet beside Noya with all the delicacy of a herd of elephants.

 

“I can’t see a thing! Where’s the light switch?!”

 

“Wait here, Asahi, I’ll find it – AH, FUCK!”

 

“OH MY GOD, WHAT IS IT?!”

 

“ _Fucking_ Lego! I fucking _hate_ Lego! Son of a-!” Noya let out a stream of curses. “What’s Suga doing, setting up fucking Lego man-traps all over the floor? What is he-?!”

 

The lights suddenly flickered on, revealing Asahi crouched under the open window and Nishinoya standing in the middle of what might once have been a carefully crafted Lego structure, but was now a mess of brightly-coloured plastic devastation.

 

There was a man standing in the doorway with a baseball bat in his hands and a panicked expression. Behind him stood a blonde-haired toddler that barely reached his knees.

 

They all screamed.

 

***

         

Suga noticed the blue flashing lights as he made his way towards his house with a growing sense of alarm. He wasn’t particularly surprised when he finally spotted the police car parked in front of his neighbour’s house with Asahi and Noya sitting in the back of it.

 

It had just been that kind of day, really.

 

Two of his neighbours stood beside the car in matching dressing gowns, deep in conversation with a pair of policemen. One of the neighbours was holding a small child Suga didn’t recognise. They could have turned around and announced that it was his and Suga wouldn’t have been in the least surprised; things like that just seemed to be _happening_ to him today.

 

He approached the group with a sense of dread. “Um-?”

 

“SUGAAAAAAAAA!” Noya screeched from the back of the police car. Asahi seemed to be beyond words.

 

“Do you know these two, Sir?” The police officer turned to Suga with a worn expression.

 

“I already told ya, Ennoshita, I know the little one.” The bald police officer grinned at his partner.

 

“Tanaka, I already told you, we can’t just release a housebreaker because you got drunk at a party once with him.”

 

“Yeah, but…he’s a cool guy, ya know?”

 

One of his neighbours – Suga scrambled around his mind for the right name – Tsukishima? – cleared his throat pointedly. “Is this going to take long? She should be in bed.” He nodded towards the tiny girl curled up in his partner’s arms. Her eyes were closed and she was sucking her thumb, her head resting on Yamaguchi’s shoulder. Suga gave Yamaguchi what he hoped was a reassuring smile – they were on friendly terms, even if Suga had never really spoken to what he had assumed was Yamaguchi’s boyfriend. He wondered where the little girl had come from.

 

“I’m sorry, but we have to make sure everything is completely covered.” Ennoshita took out a pen and notebook.

 

“Please, I can explain.” Suga interrupted. “I told them to break in.”

 

The four men stared at him. Yamaguchi took a step back.

 

“Okay.” Suga began after a pause. “I could probably have phrased that better.”

 

Despite Suga’s best attempts to explain, the day ended with a long visit to the police station, which nobody involved was particularly happy about.

 

Suga spent most of the visit trying to get some response out of Asahi, who had gone into shock after apparently being attacked with a baseball bat. Noya seemed quite happy to reconnect with Tanaka. From what Suga could gather from their garbled conversation, Tanaka had once been sent to one of Noya’s parties to calm things down after noise complaints, but had ended up joining in when he was mistaken for a stripper.   

 

It was a mental image that would likely scar Suga for life.

 

Once their various stories were taken down in statements and the mess became clear, Yamaguchi seemed ready to forgive and forget. Tsukishima, not so much.

 

The group stood on the pavement as the police car drove off, Nishinoya waving enthusiastically after his friend with tears in his eyes. Suga managed to look ashamed on Noya’s behalf as Tsukishima burned holes through him with his eyes. 

 

“She’s going to be cranky in the morning with all this disruption.” he noted accusingly.

 

“Tsukki, she’s been asleep on my shoulder for ages.” Yamaguchi shifted the child from one hip to the other, his smile faltering when he noticed the puddle of drool on his shoulder.

 

“Akiteru is coming over first thing in the morning to pick her up. He’ll notice. He’ll think we didn’t let her get a proper night of sleep.”

 

“Once again, I’m really sorry.” Suga threw a look over his shoulder at Asahi and Noya, who were now standing sheepishly in front of Suga’s house. “I hope we didn’t scare her.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about it! She’s braver than I am!” Yamaguchi snuggled the sleeping child closer to him. “Tsukki’s just nervous because this is the first time his brother has let us babysit her and he’s scared of messing up.”

 

“Shut up, Yamaguchi!” Tsukishima muttered, turning his gaze to the side as if wishing to hide himself.

 

“Sorry Tsukki!” Yamaguchi chuckled. The three of them were so sweet Suga’s teeth hurt. Once again he was overcome with guilt.

 

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you…?”

 

 “Oh no, that’s really not-”

 

“Shortcake,” Tsukishima interrupted.

 

“What?” Yamaguchi and Suga turned to look at him.

 

Tsukishima cleared his throat. “When we first moved in. You gave us strawberry shortcake.”

 

Suga wracked his brains and found nothing. He _did_ normally bake something as a welcoming present for new neighbours, but that had been months ago. Why on earth did Tsukishima-?

 

“The recipe for it would be a suitable apology.” Tsukishima’s words had a forced casualness.

 

Yamaguchi started to giggle, only laughing harder when Tsukishima turned his glare on him.

 

“Oh my God,” Yamaguchi chortled. “I’m so sorry, he’s been obsessing about that shortcake for _months._ ”

 

“ _Shut up, Yamaguchi!”_

 

The score settled, Suga let Asahi and Noya into his house. The pair immediately flopped onto the couch while Suga put the kettle on, stifling a yawn.

 

When he arrived with the long-anticipated mugs of tea he found Noya curled up on Asahi’s lap, already on the brink of sleep, his hair tickling Asahi’s chin. Asahi’s head drooped, his eyes half shut. There was a faint purple bruise forming across his temple.

 

“Do you want me to take a look at that, Asahi?” Suga asked as he set the mugs down.

 

“No, it’s fine, thank you.” Asahi murmured. “I think the shock did more damage than the bat. I’ll be having nightmares about kids with blunt sports equipment for weeks.”

 

Suga nodded. “We can’t exactly blame them. There was a small child to protect, and you… well, you can look a little bit, uh…”

 

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Asahi moaned. “I think I was more scared than the kid was. I swear, he went _feral_. Whatever you do, Suga, never piss off your neighbour if you can help it.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think Tsukishima’s as bad as he looks. I think he just gets a bit grumpy.”

 

“Tsukishima?” Asahi frowned. “It wasn’t Tsukishima.”

 

Suga stared blankly at Asahi. “Yamaguchi hit you with a baseball bat. _Yamaguchi_.”

 

“He’s scarier than he looks!” Asahi protested weakly. Noya giggled faintly into his chest.

 

With a faint sigh of exasperation Suga left to go and sort out the spare bedroom for them. He soon found that his efforts had been in vain; when he returned to the living room the pair were fast asleep.

 

Suga sighed, dropping his favourite old hand-knitted blanket over the duo before heading to his own room. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, was taking over, and it was all he could do to drag himself into bed.

 

But of course, as tired as he was, his brain just _wouldn’t_ shut up.

 

What the hell had Oikawa been trying to achieve? Was he trying to punish Suga, confuse him, upset him, to get indirect revenge on Daichi?

 

No, that didn’t quite seem to fit. But whatever it was, it had been calculated and manipulative. Of that much Suga was sure.

 

There was just so much that didn’t make sense, and Suga didn’t doubt that he could spend the whole night trying to figure it out. But as his mind finally began to slow itself down to the brink of sleep, one more question presented itself.

 

If Oikawa wasn’t the person Daichi was interested in, then who was?

 

***

 

Kuroo was not okay. Far from it. In fact, he couldn’t remember having been this far from okay in his life. Emphasis on _couldn’t remember_.

 

He had pretended otherwise well enough for Daichi and his various other visitors, including a flatmate, a doctor and several fireman Kuroo swore he had never seen before in his life; but as night turned to day all he could do was toss and turn in the hospital bed, trying to avoid lying on injuries he couldn’t remember getting and praying for something, anything, that would set his mind right again.

 

He had blinked and gone from university student to bachelor fireman with a pension and a mortgage and a whole other adult _life_.

 

The only problem was, he couldn’t fucking _remember_ it.

 

He had once imagined memory loss as a hole, a gaping cavern in the mind that ached with emptiness. It was not, in fact, anything like this. It was as though someone had pointed a remote control at his life and pressed _skip_ when Kuroo hadn’t been looking. The world had leapt ahead without him, and now he had no freaking clue what was going on.

 

Thank god he remembered Daichi. Having one friend he knew gave the whole thing tangibility; without, he would have believed it to be an elaborate joke.

 

Daichi being gay –no, _bisexual_ \- had been…unexpected. It really hit home how much things had changed. The last thing Kuroo remembered, Daichi had been dating a girl from one of his classes, Michimiya, and now he was, well…

 

It was just unexpected, that was all. Much like everything that had happened since waking up in this goddamn hospital.

 

Sunlight was beginning to filter through the window of his hospital room. Kuroo sat up abruptly, squinting. He was going to go nuts if he stayed in this room much longer. Or at least, more nuts than he already was.

 

He padded out of his room in his crappy hospital-issue slippers and past the deserted nurse’s station. It was still very early, meaning he was mostly undisturbed as he wandered aimlessly through the hospital corridors.

 

Eventually he found his way to the hospital courtyard. “Courtyard” was a generous term – it was little more than an open slab of concrete with a few benches for smokers to get their fix. Kuroo wondered if he might find someone outside this early to borrow a cigarette from – God knew he needed one.

 

But when he pushed through the swing doors, there was only one other person in the courtyard. His breath caught in his throat as the young man Kuroo had been told was his flatmate looked up from the screen of his phone, startled.

 

Had Kuroo not already been spotted, he would have left unseen. He barely knew this guy (although Kenma certainly seemed to know _him_ ) and while memory-wise he drew a blank, there was strong ache when he looked at Kenma which settled somewhere within his chest, a pain he wished he could understand. There was something more to Kenma than he was being told, and it was setting him on edge, putting him on the defensive. But Kuroo was too late; Kenma had seen him. He had no other choice but to join him on the bench.

 

“I thought you had left.” Kuroo flopped down beside Kenma, who shrank away from him slightly.

 

“No. Just went for a walk.”

 

“At six in the morning?”

 

If Kenma heard the questioning tone to Kuroo’s words, he didn’t respond to it.

 

Kuroo’s eyes scanned the courtyard as he tried to think of something, _anything_ , to say. God, he was awkward.

 

“You don’t have a cigarette on you, by any chance?”

 

Kenma glanced up quizzically from his phone.

 

“It’s not like it’s a weird thing to ask for,” Kuroo grumbled. “Or at least it wasn’t the last time I checked.”

 

“You don’t smoke,” Kenma said with a finality which set Kuroo’s teeth grinding.

 

“What are you talking about? Of course I do.”

 

“No you don’t. You haven’t smoked in years.”

 

“Oh, I see, because you’re clearly the expert here!”

 

“Yes,” Kenma replied levelly.

 

Kuroo froze, before slouching back against the cold metal of the bench with a sigh. “I guess you are.” There was a long pause. “Why did I stop?”

 

Kenma turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket. “Because,” he began with a reluctant sigh, “of one of your first nights working as a fireman. Your team arrived at the scene too late, and a kid died. It turned out the fire was started by a cigarette that hadn’t been put out properly.” Kenma talked monotonously, as though he were reading out the weather forecast. “You said you couldn’t even touch one after that without seeing… Without seeing the body.”

 

Kuroo swallowed. His hands began to twitch in his lap. “That sounds like a pretty personal thing for me to tell you.”

 

Kenma shrugged. 

 

“So we’re pretty good friends then. Or we were…” Kuroo trailed off, cursing his choice of words.

 

Kenma looked up at last, biting his lip. “Not friends. We were-”

 

He was interrupted when the courtyard doors burst open. The small blonde nurse who had earlier introduced herself as Yachi stood in the doorway, panting heavily.

 

“YOUR-BED-WAS-EMPTY-I-THOUGHT-YOU-HAD-BEEN-ABDUCTED-DON’T-WANDER-OFF-LIKE-THAT.”

 

It was a marvel that her lungs held enough air to allow her to yell for so long without breathing. Kuroo had never been told off by a nurse before (in memory) but as he was ushered back into his room he found that this was no more the case. And this nurse was a force to be reckoned with.

 

Kenma didn’t follow, and Kuroo didn’t question it. Everything in his life was a mystery at that moment, and that included Kenma.

 

He didn’t look back as he was escorted from the courtyard, but there was a strange, prickly kind of feeling on the back of his neck.

 

Like there were eyes following him.

 

***

 

The previous night Daichi had returned to an empty flat, turning his encounter with Suga over and over in his head. His sleep was restless, and the night did little to ease his state of mind.

 

The next day, however, started with a literal bang when the door to Daichi’s flat was thrown open with no small amount of force.     

 

This noise was followed by rushed footsteps and more doors opening and closing within the flat in rapid succession.

 

Daichi stumbled out of his bedroom, crutches in hand, blinking blearily at the front door to his flat, which was wide open. He was about to push it closed again when he noticed Iwaizumi standing in the doorway to his kitchen.

 

Iwaizumi stared blankly at Daichi for less than a second before charging past him.

 

“OIKAWA TOORU, WHEN I FIND YOU-!”

 

“Iwaizumi, what the _hell_ are you doing?” Daichi grunted, rubbing his head as he followed Iwaizumi into his living room.

 

“He came in here, didn’t he? I _know_ I saw him, I could have sworn…” Iwaizumi muttered to himself, dropping onto all fours to check under Daichi’s couch before running a hand through his hair in frustration.

 

Daichi’s patience, already strained from lack of sleep, snapped. “Alright, don’t bother explaining yourself. Just barge in here and make yourself at home. I don’t even know why I bother locking the damn door anymore!”

 

Daichi’s words brought Iwaizumi to a stop.  “You mean you haven’t seen Oikawa?”

 

“Surprisingly enough, no!” Daichi paused, his temper cooling. “You mean you didn’t find him again after yesterday?”

 

“No,” Iwaizumi growled. “He’s hiding from me. I thought I caught sight of him just now, heading into your flat, but…” His eyes gave the room a final scan. “I must have imagined it.”

 

Daichi swallowed, noting the rings under Iwaizumi’s eyes. “I’m sure you’ll find him sooner or later. And if I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

 

“I have a feeling he already knows that,” Iwaizumi said, “but thanks. Sorry about storming your apartment. I must just be tired or something.” He turned and headed for the door, which was still hanging wide open, allowing a cold draft to sweep into the flat.

 

“Let me know if you find him,” Daichi called after him. Deciding that there was no point in trying to get back to sleep, he returned to his room to start the long and awkward process of getting undressed for a shower while wearing a cast.

 

A towel tied around his waist, Daichi eventually hobbled into his bathroom, manoeuvring his crutches around the doorframe and shaking his head in a vain attempt to wake himself up. He pulled the shower curtain open, and came to a standstill when he saw what was in his bathtub.

 

Or, more, accurately, _who_ was in his bathtub.

 

Oikawa Tooru. Naturally.

 

Daichi jumped backwards, frantically trying to keep his towel around his waist without dropping his crutches. “Oikawa?!”

 

Oikawa peered up at him. Even with his arms folded over his chest and his knees drawn up he still struggled to fit comfortably into Daichi’s small tub. Yet still he had the cheek to roll his eyes as though it was Daichi who was intruding. “Oh, it’s you.”

 

“Of course it’s me, this is my damn bathroom! Who else were you expecting?!”

 

“Iwa-chan, obviously. Is he still here?”

 

“There’s better places to hide from him than my bathtub, Oikawa! Like another country. Or even just a different apartment complex. Or, you know, anywhere that _isn’t my flat_. This has to be the worst runaway attempt I’ve ever heard of, you haven’t even left the building.”

 

“I’m not running away! Running away is for five-year-olds.”

 

“Exactly. Now will you please get out of my bathtub? I need to use it.”

 

Oikawa squinted at him. “How d’you wash with that cast on, anyway?”

 

“None of your business,” Daichi sniped. 

 

“Can I watch?”

 

“I swear to God I will hit you with a crutch.”

 

“Better be careful, your towel might fall off.” Oikawa leered.

 

“Just get OUT.”

 

Having successfully kicked Oikawa out of the bathtub, Daichi took his time washing, reluctant to face the next bout of inescapable insanity Oikawa had brought to his flat. He left the sanctuary of the bathroom still towelling off his hair to find Oikawa slouched in front of the TV with his feet on the coffee table, a bowl of cereal in his hands. A bowl of _Daichi’s_ cereal, of which there was probably none left.

 

“Has it occurred to you that your problems might be solved by just talking to Iwaizumi?” Daichi finished towelling his hair off, wrinkling his nose in disapproval at Oikawa’s choice of TV show.

 

“Has it occurred to you to mind your own business?” Oikawa’s tone was misleadingly light, and he didn’t move his gaze from the television, where a family on Jeremy Kyle traded insults which were more bleeped-out than not.

 

“You’re one to talk.” Daichi frowned. “Are you eating cereal without any milk in it?”

 

“I live life on the wild side.”

 

“You repulse me.”

 

“Good.”

 

Daichi sat down on the couch, throwing a filthy look at what could only loosely be described as Oikawa’s breakfast. “I guess I do owe you an apology for yesterday. Even if you owe me one too.” 

 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree,” Oikawa murmured. His expression reminded Daichi of a child who had been caught taking cookies from the jar. “I’d say we’re about even now.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“I mean…well, of course, I never really _planned_ on going through with it, but he was just _there_ and I was still mad at you and it was too easy…” Oikawa babbled, and Daichi felt his blood pressure rise with each word. “…and I _might_ have taken it a bit far this time, but after everything you did, I suppose it’s only fair! Right?”

 

“Oikawa,” he said through gritted teeth. “What have you done?”

 

“All I did was make good on my...promise.” He set the cereal bowl delicately down on the table, avoiding eye contact.

 

“I swear Oikawa, if you don’t tell me what you did right now I will drag you back to your own flat, broken leg or not.”

 

Oikawa flinched at Daichi’s threat. “See…you were out for some time yesterday evening.”

 

“I went to volleyball practice to explain a few absences, is that such a crime?”

 

“I waited for you for ages. In your flat.”

 

“So?!”

 

“Mister Refreshing dropped by while I was there.”

 

Daichi froze. His eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

 

“We had…an interesting chat.”

 

“What did you-?” The words died on Daichi’s tongue. For years he had wondered if his neighbour was some kind of demon, but now he had conclusive proof.

 

Oikawa peaked at Daichi through his fingers. “I did tell you. I did tell you that if you didn’t help me I would mess with him. So really it’s _you_ that’s to blame-” Oikawa cut himself off with a squawk as Daichi lunged for him.

 

Luckily for Oikawa, Daichi’s leg provided him with some advantage.

 

“What did you do?! What did you tell him?! Oikawa I swear to God _-_! _”_ Daichi lumbered after Oikawa as he danced around the couch, chortling at Daichi’s efforts.

 

“Oh my God, your _face_.” Oikawa, laughing too hard to pay attention, tripped and ended up sprawled across the floor. Daichi caught up with him at last, panting heavily. “That’s much better. For a moment there I was worried I had taken it too far.”

 

“YOU DID TAKE IT TOO FAR!” Daichi roared as he stood over him.

 

“I know! But if I had known it was going to be this funny I wouldn’t have bothered worrying about it!”

 

“Oikawa.” Daichi held the crutch so that the end was hovering above Oikawa’s head like the barrel of a rifle. Oikawa had to cross his eyes to focus on the end of it. Daichi wasn’t sure exactly what he was threatening to do; he decided to leave it to Oikawa’s imagination. “I’m going to ask you once more. What. Did. You. Do?”

 

Oikawa’s smile was venomous. “Go and ask Mr Refreshing yourself.”

 

For a moment neither of them moved. Daichi lowered his crutch with a sigh. He slumped against the wall before carefully lowering himself to the ground beside Oikawa. “Why are you doing this to me?”

 

Oikawa’s smile fell away. He looked at Daichi with the first open expression he had worn in some time. He just looked tired. “Because you hurt me.”

 

Daichi rubbed the back of his neck. “Did doing it make you stop hurting?”

 

“No.” Oikawa stared at the ceiling.

 

Daichi exhaled heavily. “If it counts for anything, I’m sorry.”

 

There was a long pause. Oikawa sighed. “If it counts for anything, I’m not. Go and find your precious Mister Refreshing. I’m sure you’ll have a very interesting conversation with him.”

 

“Are you going to talk to Iwaizumi?”

 

Oikawa’s silence was his answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tanaka is a great cop fight me
> 
> And goddamn you do not mess with Yamaguchi and his baseball bat.


	11. The One With the Job Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suga as given an offer that could change his life, while Daichi finds a friend in an unexpected place.

Kuroo tried to be patient. He really did. But as he looked at the millionth “specialist” the hospital had found to interrogate him, he felt himself fill with despair. Annoyance quickly followed, before he finally settled on apathy. 

Kuroo studied the doctor before him. Doctor Shimizu, as she had introduced herself, carefully jotted notes with one hand, gently pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes with the other. “Thank you for answering my questions. These answers should help a lot.” She tucked her pen behind her ear, smiling faintly. 

“Uh, no problem.” Kuroo replied, grinning stupidly. Maybe all these interrogations weren’t so bad after all.

Kiyoko was gathering up her notes when Yachi burst into the room, stopping in her tracks upon catching sight of the specialist. 

“Yachi. I didn’t know you were working on this ward.” Kiyoko used the motion of pushing her glasses up her nose to hide her face. 

“No! Yes! Today!” Yachi squeaked, nearly shaking where she stood. 

“Its…good to see you.” Kiyoko smiled. Picking up the last of her things, she edged around Yachi with the same kind of caution used to avoid frightening small animals, before heading out of the door, hiding the slight flush spreading across her cheeks. 

Yachi did not move for several seconds, staring off into space with a look of wonder. “Good to see me…she said it was good to see me…”

Kuroo cleared his throat. 

“Waah?!” She jumped as if electrified.

“I’m assuming you came in here for a reason?”

“Oh.” She stared at Kuroo for a moment with intense concentration, before clasping her head in her hands dramatically. “I forgot!”

Kuroo sighed heavily as Yachi rushed back out, quietly cursing herself as she went. There was a loud crashing noise in the corridor, followed by a string of apologies. 

Kuroo sighed deeply once more, but something in the air scratched at his throat on the way down and he started to cough, his body shaking with the force of it. He climbed from his bed and staggered over to the window, noticing that it opened several floors over the courtyard. There were a few smokers bracing themselves against the cutting cold, their trails of smoke spiralling up towards Kuroo’s window. Usually the smell would have had Kuroo craving a cigarette of his own, but now the smell was choking, and there was a horrible feeling tugging within him. 

Like a forgotten memory. 

*** 

“YOU CAN’T JUST LOSE THE FORMS, DUMBASS!”

“WHAT AM I, A MIND READER?! I DIDN’T KNOW THEY WERE IMPORTANT!”

“THEY HAD “IMPORTANT” WRITTEN ALL OVER THEM!”

“SO? I DON’T READ THINGS, I FILE THEM!”

Suga followed the shouts that echoed along the corridor back to reception with dread. There he found Hinata hopping up and down on his desk, surrounded by piles of paper. Kageyama, still mercifully on the floor, was swiping at Hinata’s legs, only succeeding in scattering more files. Noya watched from his seat with an amused grin and a videophone in hand. Asahi was watching through his fingers.

“What on earth…” Suga’s words were drowned out as Kageyama finally managed to grab Hinata’s shirt, pulling him off the desk. Hinata squealed as he toppled forwards, knocking Kageyama onto the floor and landing on top of him with a heavy thump. There was a brief pause as the pair blinked in surprise at their sudden proximity. Then the yelling resumed while Hinata wriggled frantically off Kageyama, who flushed red with anger. Or at least, it was probably with anger. 

“Suga, I can’t work with this guy, he’s impossible.” Hinata clambered back to his feet, breathing heavily. Kageyama joined him seconds later.

“No, you’re impossible! Secretaries are supposed to read things!”

“What, like you’re the expert?!”

“ENOUGH!” Suga snapped, and the pair fell silent, eyes wide. Suga couldn’t remember having ever raised his voice at work before, but at least it had achieved the desired effect. He was far too strained for a delicate approach at the moment. “Look, either the pair of you learn to work together here, or neither of you work here at all. Find a way of proving to me that you can get yourselves in order, or else.”

The pair opened their mouths, but Suga cut them off before they could protest. “No buts. Out of my sight. Now.”

If Kageyama and Hinata had tails, they would have been between their legs. Suga could hear the last of their conversation as they headed down the corridor.

“…does he actually have the power to fire us?”

“Don’t question it, dumbass! I’m enough trouble already because of you!”

“Me?! This is your fault…!”

Suga rubbed at his temples. Individually neither Kageyama nor Hinata were more trouble than could be dealt with, but in combination… 

“Wow. Suga got scary,” Noya interrupted his train of thought. 

Asahi peaked out from behind his hands. “That was terrifying.”

“Ah, come on guys.” Suga smiled faintly. “You know I’m not that bad. Usually. That being said, Noya, if I see anything from that exchange on YouTube …”

“You’re no fun.” Noya put his phone away. “Oh, Tadeka asked to see you, by the way.”

“What? Why? When?”

Noya shrugged. “He just said you should come to his office when you had a moment.”

“And when did he say this?”

“I don’t know. A few days ago?”

“Gah! Noya, you’re supposed to tell me about things like this!”

“I’m sorry. I guess you’ll have to get me fired too!”

“Very funny. Is he free now?”

“Yeah, sure.” Noya leaned back in his chair, giving no clue as to why the practice’s manager wanted to speak with Suga privately. The only immediate reason that sprung to mind was that Suga was doing something wrong. But what? Sure, his private life had been pretty…interesting recently, but he was confident he hadn’t let it affect his work. So what else could it be? 

The door to Tadeka’s office was ajar when Suga arrived (open door policy was taken literally in this practice) and Tadeka was, as was often the case, flipping through a choice selection of the tonnes of paperwork produced every day by the practice. He jumped when he saw Suga, pushing his glasses up his nose and offering Suga a seat.

Suga took it, scanning Tadeka’s face for any clues as to why he was there. 

“There’s no need to look so worried!” Tadeka chuckled. “I assume you’re here because Noya has finally gotten around to passing on my messages…I didn’t want to pester him about it, what with his being hospitalised, but at least you’re here now!”

Suga nodded, wondering where this was going.

“I’ll be brief for the moment. I can send you more details later.” Tadeka used his pencil to nudge some papers around his desk. “Doctors Without Borders has been in contact about you.”

“Really? Why?” Suga frowned. His work with them had finished months ago – surely if there had been a problem someone would have been in contact at the time?

“They say they were impressed with your work in Kenya. Or, more specifically, they were impressed with you.”

“With me? I just did my job. Tried to help people as much as I could.” 

“Exactly.” Tadeka smiled. “That attitude’s just what they need, apparently. If you’re interested, they’d like to offer you a job in a more permanent position.” 

“In Kenya?!”

“Well…” Tadeka glanced at his computer screen. “According to this, you’d start by heading over to the Mumbai headquarters but after that you could end up anywhere. And everywhere. You’ll see the world. If you take the job, that is.”

Suga sat with his mouth slightly agape as Tadeka continued talking, words like “pay rise” and “job benefits” washing over him. 

“I’ll give you some time to think it over. It’s a big decision.” Tadeka chuckled at Suga’s glazed expression. “But do let me know, so I can start making arrangements as necessary.”

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, isn’t it?” Suga’s mouth was dry; those words should have made him ecstatic, so why did he just feel numb?

“Well…” Tadeka smiled. “I really don’t want to sway you either way on your decision. However, I will say that you’re one of the best Doctors I’ve had the pleasure of working with. As sad as I would be to lose you, I know you would be doing what you do best in the job most suited to drawing out your potential.”

“So you think this job is best for me?” 

Tadeka laced his fingers together. “The only person qualified to decide that for certain is you. But from what I know of you, I think it’s perfect. It would be a challenge of course, but an adventure too.”

The opportunity of a lifetime. A challenge. An adventure. It was the kind of job Suga had dreamed of - traveling to far-away countries, giving help where it was needed most. Saving the world in his own little way. Suga decided to ignore the strange numbness in his stomach. 

There was a long pause before Suga spoke. “How long do I have to decide?”

“They want to know as soon as possible,” Tadeka sighed. “A week, two at the most. I wish I could give you longer.”

Suga nodded. “Two weeks. That’s fine. I’ll be in touch.”

He left Tadeka’s office with a heavy heart. He had a big decision to make. 

***

At first, the most reasonable course of action, as far as Daichi was concerned, was to wait. Oikawa wasn’t giving Daichi any more hints about what he had done no matter how much Daichi threatened him, and so it seemed that sitting back and waiting for some reaction from Suga to occur, if there was to be any, was all he could do.

He tried not to think about exactly what Oikawa might have said, but unfortunately his imagination could not be restrained. The most obvious form of revenge would be to tell Suga how Daichi felt about him – an eye for an eye after what Daichi had said in front of Iwaizumi. Almost as bad as the truth was any number of lies Oikawa could have made up. Perhaps Suga now thought that Daichi collected human heads in jars under his bed; Oikawa could be pretty convincing when he wanted to be. Yet Suga believing Daichi to be a homicidal maniac almost sounded preferable to Suga now knowing of Daichi’s feelings. He had to have suspicions – the drunken kiss, along with a million other incidents, ensured it – but this could put it out in the open. Neither of them would be able to hide from it any longer. Daichi wasn’t sure that what was left of their fragile friendship could take it. Assuming there was anything left of their friendship. 

Daichi remembered Suga’s expression as they almost collided outside his building. He had looked shell-shocked. 

He assumed the worst. 

Daichi cursed Oikawa. Repeatedly. Oikawa was not present to hear this, having snuck back into his flat once Iwaizumi left for work, so Daichi instead directed it at his fish tank. The fish hadn’t done anything to deserve the verbal abuse if Daichi was being completely honest, but he needed to vent. 

He needed to get out of the flat. He was talking to his goldfish, for God’s sake. 

So, a little later that day, after visiting a subdued Kuroo in hospital he headed down to the high school gymnasium where his colleagues had told him the volleyball team was having a practice match.

After meeting with a few other teachers and catching up on the latest news, of which there was little, Daichi found a seat in the stands to watch the match.

The teams were well matched, but one figure stood out among the home team, a ginger girl who zipped up and down the court at the speed of light and jumped as though there were springs in her shoes. Daichi beamed with pride as Hinata Natsu slammed the ball over the net time and time again. Daichi wasn’t the kind of teacher that had favourites, but if he was they would certainly be the ones who could spike as well as she did.

It was some time into the first set when he heard two people shuffling into the row of seats behind him, bickering loudly. 

“Look! Shouyou, we’ve nearly missed the whole first set!”

“I’m sorry! I had to stay for ages trying to find those files with Kageyama! He’s so unhelpful, he spent the whole time yelling at me.”

“Hey, look, there’s your sister!” The voice, which Daichi recognised with a sinking heart as Nishinoya’s, rose in excitement. Natsu turned around and waved enthusiastically at the stands until one of her teammates clipped her around the head, forcing her to return her attention to the game. 

“Ah, she’s just like you, Shouyou.”

Daichi slouched down in his seat, hoping to avoid the notice of the duo. He knew that, for whatever reasons, Nishinoya had taken a serious disliking to Daichi and therefore had no desire to end up in an argument with him. For a few minutes he focused on the match, tuning out the constant chatter punctuated with a shout of excitement when a particularly good point was scored. The game was an exciting one and Daichi forgot they were even there as he watched the first set end with Natsu’s team losing by a single point. They huddled together intently, showing no sign of discouragement. The team were quick to return to their positions on the court for the start of the next set, all wearing identical expressions of fierce determination. 

Daichi would probably have spent the rest of the match completely ignoring the conversation behind him if it weren’t for the mention of one name.

“…I just hope Suga isn’t still mad. I’ve never seen him shout like that before.”

“Ah, it wasn’t anything you did. He’s been in a weird mood the last few days.” 

Daichi’s stomach twisted. 

“Huh? Why?” 

Daichi had a few theories about why. All of which involved Oikawa.

“I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure it’s got something to do with the dickhead.”

“The dickhead?”

“Don’t you remember him? The dickhead? Biceps Guy?” 

Daichi turned around in his seat. “Biceps guy?!” 

Nishinoya and Hinata screamed, Hinata jerking backwards in surprise so violently that he fell off his seat and landed on the floor with a yelp. Both were still in their work clothes: creased white shirts and black trousers, overdressed for a high school volleyball match, and under less stressful circumstances Daichi would have laughed.

The two sides regarded each other warily. Having recovered from the initial shock, Hinata at least had the decency to look ashamed. Nishinoya did not. Daichi was convinced that Nishinoya had a specific scowl reserved for dealing with him and him alone; one hand-crafted to fully express the extent of his disgust and irritation. 

“Excuse me, but this is a private conversation.” He folded his arms. 

“Yeah, about me!”

“You can’t prove that.” 

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “Biceps Guy.”

“Just because you have an incredibly muscular and well-built upper body doesn’t mean you can go around upsetting my friends!”

“Suga’s upset? Is he okay? Did he say why-?” Daichi fell silent when he saw surprise flash across Nishinoya’s face. “What?!”

“Well.” For the first time, doubt clouded Noya’s features. “I didn’t think you cared that much.”

“Of course I do!” Daichi frowned, but his irritation quickly dissolved into shame. “I realise I’ve messed up a lot. I’ve made more mistakes than I have any right to. But I like Suga a lot. I want to be his friend, but I want him to be happy more.” 

Nishinoya’s eyes widened. “Huh.”

“What?”

Nishinoya furrowed his brow in concentration. “Do you…like Suga?”

“I just said-”

“No, I mean like like.”

Daichi’s mouth felt drier than a desert. But it wasn’t as though it was much of a secret anymore - Suga almost certainly knew. “Yes. I do.”

“But you told him you didn’t.”

“What? No I didn’t!”

“He said you told him right at the beginning that you weren’t interested in anyone.”

“I couldn’t tell him I liked him! He had just finished telling me about some guy he met at work that he liked…”

Nishinoya stared at him blankly. Even Hinata, whose attention had returned to the match some time ago, sent him a quizzical look. 

“Wait a minute.” The penny dropped, along with Daichi’s jaw. There was a burst of blinding warmth in his chest, a feeling too powerful for Daichi to put a name to, somewhere between joy, hope and amazement which burned bright within him, but seconds later the flames were extinguished. “No. No way. Suga can’t like me. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes it does.” Hinata piped up for the first time in the conversation. 

“He would have told me.”

“You never told him.” Hinata’s gaze was piercing, enough to make the hairs on the back of Daichi’s neck stand on end. 

Daichi fell silent, letting the dozens of dots finally connect in his mind. Had they both been playing the same game from the start? Both hiding their feelings from the other out of fear of rejection? 

Maybe it did make sense. 

Dear God. All this time.

“I’m such a goddam idiot.” Daichi covered his eyes with one hand. 

A smile spread over Noya’s face like sunlight bursting through dispersing clouds. “You know, you’re not such a bad guy.” Nishinoya clapped him on the back. 

“Thanks a lot, Nishinoya,” Daichi groaned.

“Call me Noya.” He chuckled again. “But I ain’t gonna disagree. The pair of you are idiots. But hey, I can’t judge.”

Daichi groaned again.

“A match made in heaven.” Noya leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his head. 

“If only,” Daichi sighed.

Noya sat up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I have no idea what’s going on with us. Yesterday he said he didn’t want anything more to do with me. Then I see him leaving my flat after God-knows-what kind of conversation with my hurricane of a neighbour. And I haven’t heard from him since. Perfect couple? Yeah, right.”

“Y’know, the more I get to know you, the more I think you and Suga could be.” Noya stroked his chin with a thoughtful expression.

“What?” A warm hope settled in Daichi’s chest at the words. A dangerous hope. 

“It’s settled, then!”

“What is?!”

“I’m going to help you get your act together with Suga.” 

The room suddenly burst into applause. Natsu’s team had won the second set. Her teammates roared with glee, exchanging hi-fives and hair ruffles and pats on the back. 

“Um.” Daichi stared into Nishinoya’s eyes which sparkled with mischief. “That’s really not necessary-”

“I insist! It’s the least I can do after all the names I called you!”

“What other names-?”

“The past is in the past, man! Hinata, you wanna help?”

“YES, NATSU!” Hinata punched the air a few times before returning his focus to the conversation. “Huh? Did you say help? Does this mean we like him again now?” 

“Yes, we do.” Noya slung an arm around Hinata’s shoulder. “I mean, I always said there was chemistry, didn’t I? When he kept coming into the practice with his lame-ass excuses.”

“Did you?” Hinata suddenly threw his hands up in celebration, nearly smacking Noya in the face. “SERVICE ACE!”

“Yup. I’m a master at spotting chemistry. It’s all in the eyes.” Noya smirked. “I could see it in the way they looked at each other. It’s just like you and Kageyama.”

Hinata froze. He turned around slowly, his face drained of all colour. “What?”

“Ah, young love. Anyway.” Noya turned back to Daichi. “What’s your plan?”

“Plan?” Daichi asked, half his attention still on Hinata, who was frozen in place, silently mouthing what over and over.

“Yes! To win Suga’s heart!” Noya clasped one hand over his chest, the other brushing his forehead like a swooning maiden. “Are you going to sweep him off his feet and carry him into the sunset like a knight in shining armour?”

“…chemistry?” Hinata continued to murmur. 

“Um.” Daichi was suddenly presented with the image of Suga in a long, flowing gown like a princess from a fairy-tale. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that particular picture. “I don’t really have any plans like that. I can’t carry anyone with these crutches anyway.”

“Drat.” Noya deflated for a second, before immediately jerking upright again. “No worries! I’m going to come up with the best, coolest, most awesome guaranteed-success plan ever for you!”

“Y-Young love? Me and - and Kageyama?” Hinata mumbled.

“Uh, okay?” Daichi agreed with trepidation. Noya was unpredictable at best, a downright hazard at worst, but Daichi was in no position to turn down help. 

“Great, it’s all settled!” Noya grabbed Daichi’s hand and shook it. “We’ll be in contact. Right, Shouyou?”

“Kageyama and…me?”

“Right!” Noya beamed, leaving Hinata’s quiet crisis unheard. “This whole mess will be sorted out in no time.”

“Thanks. I think.” Daichi began to feel as though he had signed his soul away. He decided to let it go. 

He should have been happy. Now he had two of Suga’s closest friends on his side, even if one of them seemed to be permanently jacked on caffeine, and the other working his way through some kind of existential crisis. What was the worst that could happen?

Daichi should have known not to ask such questions by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say that with this chapter we're nearly at the halfway point! I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who's been leaving such lovely comments, you guys are the ones who make all the time and effort I put into writing this worthwhile. Y'all make my day, for real. But enough cheesiness! 
> 
> Coming up next week: more Kuroken than you can shake a crutch at.


	12. The One Where Kuroo Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma has some explaining to do.

Kuroo’s dreams were full of fire, flames that licked his skin into blistering liquid flesh and churned out ashy smoke until there was no more air in his lungs or sky above.

 

Of course, it was only upon waking that he realised they were dreams. The sheets were damp with sweat and his hands curled into fists of their own accord. He forced his muscles to relax, noting the deep red half-moons where his nails had bitten into the palms of his hands. He rubbed at his shoulder through the bandages to distract himself, testing the joint thoroughly. The pain was easing, but still there. Kuroo winced.   

 

His hair was sticking to his forehead. He pushed it back, frowning, and wondered why he had let it grow so long. He could practically plat it.

 

He caught sight of Kiyoko walking past his door, who gave him a nod and a smile as she passed.  He thought nothing more of it until Kenma and Yachi appeared a few minutes later.

 

Kenma had clearly slipped home at some point for a change of clothes, and now wore a crimson hoodie several sizes too big with black skinny jeans and red converse. He had a rucksack slung over his shoulder and his expression, as usual, gave nothing away. Yachi, on the other hand, looked about ready to faint, explode, or possibly both. “I talked to such a pretty lady for nearly two minutes… What if her fans try to kill me?!”

 

Kuroo decided to let it slide. “What’s going on?”

 

“Ah!” Yachi started as if returning to reality. “Kiyoko just dropped off her assessment, along with some other files. The hospital have come to a decision.”

 

“About what?”

 

“They think your condition is stable enough for you to be discharged!” Yachi beamed. “Congratulations!”

 

“What?! My memory still hasn’t returned!”

 

Yachi bit her lip, deflated. “Y-yes, but memory isn’t something we can just fix with the right medicine. Sitting in a hospital bed won’t help you, but maybe seeing your home, your workplace, your friends could bring something back. We’re going to continue monitoring your condition of course, and your flatmate has promised he’ll look after you!” Yachi smiled, nudging Kenma with her elbow. Kenma looked away.

                                                                                                                        

“What about my other injuries?” Kuroo wriggled his shoulders, earning himself a jab of pain.

 

“The best thing now is rest, and lots of it!” Despite the stress caused by Kiyoko’s visit, the event still seemed to have left Yachi in a sunny mood. Kuroo hoped she wasn’t this chipper when she was delivering bad news.

 

He sighed. If the hospital wanted him gone, there wasn’t much he could do about it. He didn’t blame them – other patients needed a bed. He just wasn’t keen on the idea of being dropped back into a life he knew nothing about. He was even less keen on the idea of being left alone in a flat with... Well. With Kenma.

 

He wasn’t sure where it had come from, but he had a feeling that Kenma was in some way mad at him. His promise to look after him flew in the face of Kuroo’s theory. Perhaps the nurse had simply forced it out of him.

 

“You’ll be fine, I swear!” Yachi promised. “Come down to reception when you’re ready for us to discharge you.” She left with a smile and a thumbs-up.

 

Kuroo flopped back into his pillow with a groan.

 

“I brought clothes for you to change into.” Kenma dropped the backpack on the bed by Kuroo’s side. Kuroo tugged it towards his face without sitting up and jerked the zipper down. He pulled the contents out sceptically.

 

“Are you sure these are mine?” A scruffy band tee and ripped jeans. Kuroo wrinkled his nose. “Did I find these in the same trash heap I dumped my sense of style in?”

 

Kenma shrugged. “The only person you’re insulting here is yourself. I’ll be outside.”

 

“Wait,” Kuroo sat up, letting the sheets slide off, and hung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Can you – Can you help me?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“It’s just – my shoulder. The bandages. It’s still hard to move properly. Do you think you could give me a hand with the shirt? I can do everything else fine, it’s just-”

 

“Yeah. Fine, whatever,” Kenma cut in before Kuroo could finish. He watched from the corner of his eye as Kuroo pulled his jeans on under his hospital gown. Kuroo eased himself down from the bed and turned around.

 

“Could you get the ties for me?” For a moment he wondered if Kenma hadn’t been listening. He jumped when he felt cold fingers on his back between the folds of the material. Kuroo tried not to shiver at the contact as Kenma worked his way from the ties at the top of his spine downwards. Nevertheless, by the time the gown slid from his shoulders goose-bumps had broken out across his skin.

 

He turned around to face Kenma once more. Kenma had picked Kuroo’s shirt up from the bed and, unaware of Kuroo’s gaze, was rubbing the material between his fingers and thumb with a distant expression. Kuroo coughed.

 

Kenma looked up and his eyes widened in alarm before his gaze fell to Kuroo’s exposed chest. His eyes lingered on the bandages that still swathed Kuroo’s upper chest and shoulder.

 

“Does it still hurt?” Kenma whispered. He reached a hand forward tentatively, but his fingers were still an inch from Kuroo’s shoulder when he changed his mind and jerked his hand back.   

 

“Nah, it’s fine. Really. Just hard to move.” Kuroo smiled through the lie. To prove his point, he raised his arms in preparation. He hoped Kenma had missed the wince that accompanied the action.

 

Judging by the fretful delicacy with which Kenma eased Kuroo’s arms into the shirt, he hadn’t missed it. He tugged it down over his chest until Kuroo’s head slipped through the head hole, letting his fingers brush against Kuroo’s skin once more.

 

“Thanks.” Kuroo shook his hair back into place with his uninjured arm.   

 

The journey to the flat he was told he lived in was spent in silence. Kuroo’s skin continued to tingle from the ghost of Kenma’s touch. He couldn’t tell if this degree of quiet was normal for Kenma, or if it was prompted by awkwardness. Kuroo couldn’t blame him. The whole situation was bizarre. It would make anyone uncomfortable.

 

Kenma led the way into an unfamiliar building, up an unfamiliar flight of stairs and at last to an equally unfamiliar door. Kuroo’s eyes roamed the corridor as Kenma pushed his key into the lock.

 

He followed eagerly into the flat, and was nearly sent flying when a black ball of fur hurtled towards him and bolted between his ankles.

 

“What the-?!”

 

Kenma crouched down and held his hand out towards the green-eyed cat, which immediately nuzzled into him. “This is Altair.”

 

“We have a cat?” Kuroo knelt beside Kenma, running his hand through the cat’s fur.

 

Kenma didn’t reply, his hand still rubbing Altair’s ears. Altair watched with suspicious eyes, giving no indication that he enjoyed the gesture. He didn’t move away though, which Kuroo took as a good sign.

 

“I always wanted a cat,” Kuroo murmured, more to himself than anyone. “What’s the name from?”

“A video game character. One that spends a lot of time sneaking around and jumping out at people.”

 

“Oh.” Kuroo drew back his hand. The cat flopped down on its side. It stared at Kuroo, blinking slowly, as if trying to prove its innocence.  

 

“You rescued him,” Kenma began suddenly. “He was found trapped in an abandoned house, all on his own. Nobody could find his owner, so…” He trailed off, his voice raw. “When he first came here he was so thin we could see his ribcage.”

 

“Oh.” The cat showed little evidence of the trauma Kenma described; he was still on the thin side, sure, but healthy, and his fur shone even in the dim hallway light. Kuroo smiled, and they both looked up at the same time, their eyes meeting. Kenma’s eyes widened upon noticing how close they were and he shrank back before standing up again.

 

Figuring his flatmate out was harder than solving a Rubik’s Cube in the dark, but Kuroo was dammed if he was giving up without a fight.

 

Altair blinked once at the pair as if noticing that he was no longer the centre of attention. He rolled back onto his feet in one fluid motion and slunk away to sulk.

 

“Black cats are meant to be bad luck, aren’t they?” Kuroo mused as he followed Kenma, who gave him a quick tour of the flat. Quick being an understatement - pointing to each door with a declaration of “bedroom” or “bathroom” was as descriptive as Kenma got. The flat was small but cosy, and Kuroo felt comforted by the little familiarities. He recognised an old shirt of his lying on the couch and his childhood guitar resting on a stand by his bed. His usual brand of hair gel sat on the bathroom shelf beside a jar holding two toothbrushes, one red and one blue. Judging by the state of his hair in the reflection of the mirror the hair gel had never started working. Kuroo studied his face, using memory loss as an excuse for his vanity. There were no obvious changes from what he remembered, but upon closer inspection he found at least some evidence of the years he had forgotten. His jawline was a little sharper, more pronounced than he remembered, and Kuroo wondered if he was imagining the extra height. He had already noticed his hair had grown longer, but in the large mirror he could see the full effect. The extra length gave him a shaggier, wilder look. Kuroo snorted.

 

“Turned into a proper rebel, didn’t ya?” His reflection smirked back at him. Kuroo decided, objectively, that he didn’t look half bad. The extra muscle he put down to a physically demanding job didn’t hurt the cause.

 

Kuroo could feel some of the tension unwinding within him as he looked the flat ( _his_ flat) around and confirmed that, yes, he did indeed live here. It felt almost like home, even if he didn’t remember it.

 

He found Kenma in the kitchen, which was silent save for the hum of the refrigerator.

 

A mug of hot chocolate appeared under Kuroo’s nose. He took it from Kenma, who blinked at him in a manner eerily similar to the cat. Kuroo cupped the mug in his hands and nodded in thanks _._ The heat seeped into his fingers as he inhaled the rich scent before taking a gulp.

 

He regretted his decision as soon as the liquid touched his lips. He yelped, spitting the drink everywhere. “HOT!”

 

“It’s hot chocolate.” Kenma began hunting for a dishcloth. “What were you expecting?”

 

“Ow. Ow. Ow.” Kuroo stuck his tongue out, wincing. “You would think I had burned myself enough lately.”

 

“It’s a scald when it’s caused by liquid, not a burn.” Kenma pulled a tartan tea towel from a drawer. Amusement flickered across his face when he turned back to see Kuroo’s pout. 

 

“Thanks, Wikipedia Man. It’s just as painful.”

 

“Tragic.” Kenma began dabbing at Kuroo, who took a moment to process Kenma’s sense of humour.

 

“How sympathetic of you.” Kuroo smirked, matching Kenma’s sarcasm with his own.

 

Kenma, having finished patting Kuroo dry, looked up, and his eyes widened when they met Kuroo’s. He remained frozen for a few moments before stepping back, snapping his gaze away.

 

Kuroo let out a heavy breath. That was the second time…whatever _that_ was had happened since arriving. Kenma clearly had a thing about proximity.

 

“I’m going to get some stuff from ou – _your_ room,” Kenma said, breaking the silence.

 

“Stuff?” Kuroo sensed Kenma didn’t want to be followed as he left the kitchen, but Kuroo tagged along anyway.

 

“Nothing important. Go back to your hot chocolate.” Kenma pushed the door to Kuroo’s room open.

 

Kuroo ignored Kenma’s instruction, flopping down onto his bed while Kenma picked through the mess of clothes and rubbish on the floor. Altair shot out from his hiding place under a discarded jumper, making both of them jump, and leapt onto the bed to curl up by Kuroo’s head. Kuroo scratched the cat’s ears and smiled at the fickleness of its affections. He watched Kenma busying himself for a moment, before his boredom peaked and he stretched until his back cracked, watching for a reaction. Kuroo smirked at the wince the sound elicited, and even more so at the scowl that followed. Kuroo let his head flop back into the pillows, enjoying the warmth of the blankets that enveloped him, a thousand times more comfortable than the sterile hospital sheets. At last he was beginning to feel at ease – sure, he didn’t remember squat, but there was still something very _homely_ about the flat. He could smell the deodorant he had always worn in the fabric of his bedsheets, along with something less familiar. Apples?

 

It was a nice smell.

 

Kenma straightened up, various odds and ends in his arms. He glanced at Kuroo before heading swiftly for the door.

 

“Hang on.” Kuroo sat up with a frown. Kenma stopped in his tracks. Altair, disturbed from his resting place, hopped down from the bed and left in a huff.

 

“There’s no way those are my underpants.” Kuroo frowned at the bundle in Kenma’s arms. “Which means they must be yours.”

 

“Yes.” Kenma didn’t turn around, but he hunched his shoulers.

 

Kuroo considered his words very carefully before he spoke next. “Why…why were your underpants on my bedroom floor?”

 

Kenma turned to face Kuroo. There was a strange look in his eyes that set Kuroo on edge.

 

“Why do you think?”

 

Kuroo frowned. “I don’t know! Because you were getting undressed in my room? But why were you…?”

 

Kenma didn’t respond.

 

“I don’t understand,” Kuroo finished when it became evident that he was receiving no explanation.

 

“Is it not clear?” The question hung in the air between them as if it had been dropped through a gallows.

 

Kuroo looked at Kenma, studied him properly for the first time since awakening. He ran through every moment he could remember between them in his mind. The complete stranger that held him so tightly, but jerked away as soon as he realised Kuroo didn’t remember him. The peculiar conversation in the courtyard with the man who knew Kuroo better than he knew himself. The constant feeling that Kenma’s eyes were on him, even though his gaze was always somewhere else when Kuroo turned to check.

 

No. Absolutely not.

 

“I’m not gay.” The words felt harsh when they fell from his lips, as though he were in denial.

 

If there was one thing Kuroo Tetsurou knew for a fact, it was that he was one-hundred-percent most certainly and undeniably straight. _No_ amount of black-hole memory could change that. Could it?

 

“I don’t have a problem with it.” He scratched the back of his head, self-conscious under the strange look that persisted in Kenma’s gaze. “But I’m not. We didn’t…we can’t have…?” He trailed off, loathing the question mark that wormed its way into his words.

 

Kenma tilted his head to one side. Kuroo began to feel like a bug under a microscope. “If you say so,” he answered at last. His tone was condescending, like a parent talking to an infant, and it did nothing to help Kuroo’s discomfort. Yet there was also another edge to Kenma’s words that sounded flat and hurt but above all _tired_.

 

Kenma turned and left the room without another word. Kuroo stayed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, finding only the overpowering aroma of apples to argue with.

 

He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t…

 

***

 

A week passed without Daichi hearing from Noya.

 

In a way he was grateful. His life had been so insane lately that the brief return of peace was a welcome reprieve. Or, at least, something like peace. He heard and saw nothing of Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Daichi could only take that as a bad sign.

 

He visited Kuroo nearly every day, glad to see the colour gradually returning to his cheeks. His injuries were healing quickly, and being at home again was doing him the world of good. Far less easy to gauge was Kuroo’s emotional state. He seemed subdued, even more so if Kenma was around. He talked about the hospital appointments he attended on a daily basis; his trip to the fire station to see if his colleagues could spark any memories; his adventures in catching up with several years’ worth of TV. But there was one subject he avoided like the plague: Kenma.

 

“Hey Kuroo. How are you doing?” Daichi’s ability to handle his crutches was improving; he could almost match Kuroo’s long strides in speed as they headed through to the living room. There was a worrying number of ready-meal cartons and take-away boxes littered across their flat, but that was nothing new. Daichi imagined that if Suga ever saw the place he would call in the health services in an instant.

 

“I’m so fucking confused, man.” Kuroo dropped onto his couch, and for a moment it felt like everything was normal. “The last season of LOST. What was that all about?”

 

“When did you find time to marathon a whole series?” Daichi lowered himself down beside Kuroo, shooting a dirty look at Altair, who was glaring at him from under the coffee table. The creature had tripped him, jumped on him, scratched him and given him enough heart attacks to last a lifetime. Daichi considered Kuroo’s cat a sworn enemy beyond redemption.

 

“I was bored.” Kuroo scratched at the well-worn fabric of the couch, already thoroughly clawed by Altair and stained from various food-related escapades.

 

“Ah. Did Kenma watch with you?”

 

“No.” Kuroo answered bluntly, scowling at the mention of Kenma. “So what was that alternate reality stuff about? Were they all dead, or-?”

 

“Kuroo, I don’t know. Nobody knows. Everyone was as confused as you.”

 

Kuroo shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

 

Daichi shrugged. “That’s life.” He studied the bags under Kuroo’s eyes and wondered if the compulsion to watch a whole series in one sitting was the true cause of his insomnia.

 

Kuroo didn’t look as though he was ready to drop the subject, but the sound of the front door opening and closing silenced him. Kenma stuck his head into the room to nod at Daichi before leaving again. Altair dashed out from under the coffee table to follow, making Daichi jump. He winced and cursed the cat for what had to be the thousandth time as he rubbed his leg, but stopped when he noticed Kuroo’s expression.

 

Daichi sighed. “So what was Kenma doing during your marathon?”

 

Kuroo shrugged, switching from picking at the upholstery to scratching the back of his head.

 

“Was he in the flat, or-?”

 

“What’s your problem?! Why do you keep going on about him?” Kuroo snapped.

 

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I’m the one with a problem here.”

 

Kuroo tried to frown, but it crumbled under Daichi’s steady gaze. He bit his lip, eyes on the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it. If you don’t mind.”     

 

“Okay. Okay. Just…I’m here if you need me, okay?”

 

“Sure thing, Sawamura.” Kuroo gave the tiniest of smirks.

 

They sat together for some time, neither paying much attention to the film which played out on the screen before them. Kenma made no further appearance, and when Daichi stuck his head into Kenma’s room to say goodbye he was sitting in a cocoon of blankets with his computer on his lap, gazing at the screen as though it were a wall.

 

Nonetheless, Daichi took advantage of the uneasy peace while it lasted, even if it felt worryingly like the silence before a storm.

 

He was proven right when his phone buzzed the following Friday night with a text message.

 

Noya had a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say Kuroo has some issues to work through.
> 
>  
> 
> Next week: The dangers of Noya and his "plans".


	13. The One With Noya's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nishinoya Yuu tries to help (in his own uniquely catastrophic way)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the sliiiightly shorter than average chap but that's just the way it worked out ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Hopefully quality will make up for quantity!

“I don’t have a plan.” Noya paced up and down across Suga’s living room floor. If he kept going at such a rate, he would probably wear through the carpet and reach the floorboards by the end of the night. Not that the thought bothered him – he had more important things to worry about. “I told him I had a plan. But I don’t.”

 

“Aw, man.” Tanaka cracked open a beer, which promptly frothed upwards, spilling foam over his lap. This didn’t seem to bother him. One good outcome of the house-break incident had been finding Tanaka again – the guy proved to be great company even when he wasn’t impersonating a stripper. “But what about our kidnap plan? That was so awesome!”

 

“I _know,_ right?!” Noya flopped down onto the couch beside him. “We worked so hard on it, too!”

 

Well. Worked on. Got drunk while playing on Tanaka’s Xbox and woke up his neighbours at three am with all their yelling. Same difference.

 

That had been attempt number one. This was their second, and they had chosen a good night for it. The city’s stretch of good weather had yet to break and the night was cool and clear. Noya could see the moon through Suga’s living room curtains casting a calming silver light over the room. But Noya was in no mood to be calmed. Asahi and Suga were both asleep which left Tanaka and Noya free to scheme. The only problem being that neither of them were any good at scheming.

 

“I was looking forward to using my handcuffs.” Tanaka pouted. “How come we can’t do our first idea?”

 

“Asahi says I’m not allowed to kidnap anyone. He says it’s illegal. I told him I had a cop on my side, but he was all _I don’t want to go to prison I would not flourish in that kind of environment._ ” Noya grabbed Tanaka’s head between his hands, turning it to face him. “Come on, dude. Feel the size of your head. It’s HUGE. There’s GOTTA be some ideas in there SOMEWHERE.”

 

Tanaka clamped his hands down over Noya’s and started squeezing, wearing an expression of concentration that would have intimidated a more timid man than Noya.

 

“HNNNNNNNNNNNNG!” If there were points for trying, Tanaka deserved them all.

 

“THINK!” Noya hollered.

 

“HNNNNNNNNNNNNG!”

 

“THINK!”

 

“HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!”

 

“WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON IN HERE?” Suga bellowed from the doorway. His hair stuck up in every direction possible and he was wearing a pink and purple polka-dot dressing gown.

 

“Ah. Sorry Suga, were we being a little loud?” Noya released Tanaka’s head sheepishly.

 

“I’ll be surprised if you haven’t woken up the entire street. I think Tsukishima is babysitting his niece again tonight, and if you’ve disturbed her he’ll never forgive me.” Suga yawned, running a hand through his hair. “Where’s Asahi?”

 

Noya nodded in the direction of the armchair. Asahi was slouched in it, fast asleep, a blanket around his shoulders.

 

Suga stared. “How in the name of God-?”

 

“He sleeps through everything. Do you know how many alarms we have to set to get him up in the morning? Do you know how many work?”

 

“So that’s what’s been waking me up every morning,” Suga sighed.

 

“Sorry again, Suga. We’ll try to think more quietly.” Beside him, Tanaka nodded in agreement.

 

“Is that what you were doing?” Suga muttered darkly. He left, and a few minutes later Noya heard the sound of a kettle boiling in the kitchen.

 

Noya chewed at his lip, regretful of having disturbed Suga’s sleep. The strange mood still hadn’t completely left Suga, but since meeting with Tadeka there had been something else bothering him too. Something Suga wasn’t telling them about. Noya could see it weighing down on him, and with every day that it lingered Noya’s worry increased.

 

It was Suga’s mood more than anything that made Noya eager to press on with any plan they could come up with. Not only would it take one problem off Suga’s plate, but it could distract him from whatever was causing the late nights and the periodic zoning out.

 

Tanaka scratched his head. “It must be the hair.”

 

“What?”

 

“That makes my head look big. It must be my hair.”

 

“Dude, _what_ hair?”

 

“I’M NOT BALD,” Tanaka roared. “IT’S JUST CLOSELY SHAVEN!”

 

Suga cleared his throat pointedly in the kitchen.

 

“Oh. SORRY!” Even Tanaka’s whisper sounded like a shout.

 

The pair remained silent until the creaking of the stairs told them Suga had returned to his room.

 

“I told Daichi to come into the practice on Monday. What am I going to do?!”

 

Tanaka shrugged. “Would it help if I arrested him?”

 

Noya considered it. “Nah, probably not. We just need them to _talk_ , man. _Communicate_. What’s Asahi always saying? _Communication is key_. That’s it. It’s just getting them to sit down and talk to each other for long enough to-!” He broke off.

 

“What? What is it?!” Tanaka leaned forward with wide eyes.

 

Noya smiled. “I…” he made a fist and pressed it against his chest, “…have a _plan_.”

 

***

 

“When I told you to get along with Kageyama,” Suga sighed, rubbing at his temples, “I didn’t mean you should run from the room whenever you see him.”

 

Hinata rocked between one foot and the other, his hands gripping the hem of his shirt. Suga’s guilt at cornering him in such an anxious state grew, but was quickly surpassed by his curiosity. The week before the two had been at each other’s throats – _literally -_ and while that hadn’t been the outcome Suga had hoped for, they had at least been working together as they argued. But something must have happened over the weekend, because all day Hinata had evaded Kageyama to the point of hiding under his desk to avoid him. They couldn’t go on like this.

 

Suga sighed again, but half way through it turned into a yawn. Between Noya’s shenanigans and his own mind tormenting him, he hadn’t been sleeping as well as he should have been over the course of the last week. His little terrace house wasn’t large enough to hold three grown men on a long-term basis, but Suga was too polite to ask Noya and Asahi how much longer their hunt for a new place would take, and he had no desire to rush them. Despite the cramped conditions, having the pair around had done Suga a world of good and he continued to be glad of their company, even if Noya hogged the shower and Asahi refused to watch scary movies with them. They had snapped him out of periods of pensiveness or melancholy more than once, and a large part of him didn’t want them to leave. 

 

As for the other cause of his sleeplessness, the indecision that had plagued him, well…

 

 It wouldn’t be bothering him anymore.

 

With some of his own problems resolved, he now had time to turn his mind to other matters. Matters such as Hinata’s recent peculiar behaviour whenever Kageyama was around. 

 

When the seconds passed without a response from Hinata, Suga pressed his lips together with growing concern. “Hinata? Is something wrong?”

 

Hinata bit his lip. “N-No.”

 

Suga raised an eyebrow. “Hinata. I can help.”

 

He looked up and nodded, his knuckles white. He gestured for Suga to come closer, scanning the reception area dramatically. He had nothing to worry about. Suga had made a point of waiting until almost everyone had left for the night before cornering Hinata about the issue – although what the issue _was_ exactly, Suga was yet to understand.

 

“Suga,” Hinata began in a hushed tone. He checked over his shoulder a final time before continuing. “What do you do when you…” he took a deep breath. “… _like_ someone?”

 

“Oh. _Oh._ ” Suga heard the penny clatter onto the floor of his mind. In retrospect, he should have seen this coming. “I see.”

 

“I-I’m not saying I _do_ like someone! Or anyone! I was just, you know, wondering… hypothetically, if I _were_ to like someone… what would I do?”

 

Suga smiled. “Well, if, _hypothetically,_ you _did_ like someone, I would tell you to talk to them about it.” Hinata’s gaze immediately dropped down to the floor. Suga shook his head. “Communication is _everything_ , Hinata. Try explaining how you feel to him. You never know.” He patted Hinata on the head. The irony of his words would not hit him until later.

 

“R-Right!” Hinata straightened up, a cautious smile spreading across his face. “Thanks, Suga!”

 

Suga smiled back, and when the sounds of footsteps came from the corridor Hinata jumped back, trying and failing to look as casual as possible. Noya and Kageyama appeared, the last of the staff yet to leave. Rain drummed against the windowpanes and wind whistled under the doors, announcing as loudly and as obnoxiously as possible the break in the good weather. Kageyama pulled his coat from the rack, eying the weather outside with distaste. Suga nudged Hinata’s shoulder. Hinata clenched his fists and nodded, before bounding over to join him. Kageyama failed to hide his surprise as Hinata struck up a conversation and Suga smiled at the parts of their chatter that drifted over, still quarrelsome but lacking the previous bite. They left the practice together, Hinata throwing a wave over his shoulder as he went.

 

“Communication works wonders.” Suga glanced down at his watch and nudged Noya. “Nearly time for us to be heading, too.”

 

“I hate having different shifts from Asahi.” Noya yawned as he flicked the lights off. “It means he can’t drive us both home.” The rain pounded into the earth outside. Suga glanced out at the unappealing puddles which were spreading across the car park, deep enough to drown an innocent doctor or two. He wasn’t looking forward to the walk.

 

“Can’t Asahi drive over and pick us up?”

 

“Nah, he’s at his Zumba class. Oh!” Noya slapped his hand to his head theatrically. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!”

 

“Forgot what?!”

 

“What you were just saying about communication – I’m so glad you agree! Quick, come with me!” Noya grabbed Suga’s hand, giving him no choice but to follow.

 

“Noya!” Suga gasped for breath as Noya pulled him along the empty corridor, which looked far more threatening when the lights had been turned off. “Come on, it’s late, it’s dark, and that storm’s only going to get worse. What are you-?!”

 

Noya shushed him. They came to a stop at the door to a supply closet. “Alright,” he began quietly, “I put some supplies and stuff in the green bucket in case of emergencies. I’ll come and get you in the morning. Trust me, you’ll be fine. Remember, communication!”

 

“Noya, what-?!”

 

Noya opened the door and shoved Suga into the closet. Suga fell flat on his face, hearing the door slam shut behind him.

 

“Noya, what the hell are you doing?!” Suga jumped to his feet, hearing the unmistakeable rattle of the key being turned in the lock. He shook his head in disbelief at his friend’s sudden insanity. Noya had never been the most stable individual, but this was on another level.

 

“Don’t worry, it’s all part of my plan!” Noya shouted from the other side of the door.

 

“LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW, NOYA, OR I SWEAR TO GOD-!” Suga halted, struggling to think of a suitable threat. A straitjacket seemed to be most fitting.

 

“Have fun!” There was a chuckle, and the sound of footsteps heading down the corridor.

 

For a second the only sound was rain hammering against the roof. Suga clenched his hand into a fist and thumped it against the door, wincing in pain at the contact.

 

“What the hell. What the _hell_ , Noya?!” Suga muttered to himself as he rubbed his bruised knuckles.

 

When he heard someone clear their throat behind him, he screamed. He hadn’t known his voice was capable of a pitch as high as that, but this day was just _full of surprises._

 

“I would like to start by stating very clearly,” Daichi began, “that I did _not_ know he was going to do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((HE DID THAT))
> 
> Coming up next week: several death threats are made, mostly against Noya.


	14. The One Where They're Locked in the Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Daichi nor Suga asked to be locked in a supply closet together, yet here they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, just, don't judge me.

Daichi hadn’t known what to expect when he arrived at the practice earlier that day. Noya’s messages had been irritatingly unclear; all Daichi knew was that he needed to be in the car park outside the practice to meet Noya at precisely one o’clock where, presumably, Noya would explain his plan at last.

 

He hadn’t expected to be bundled into the building, and subsequently the supply closet, with nothing but “Quick, while Suga’s out on his lunch break!” in explanation.

 

“What’s going on?!” Daichi panted as Noya pulled the door closed behind him.

 

“Don’t worry! This is all part of my plan. It’s a really great plan, I think you’ll like it! But first, if you have any of your own plans for today I would cancel them now. Same for this evening. And tonight. Tomorrow morning too, maybe. Just cancel everything, this is more important.”

 

“What _is_ this?!”

 

“Daichi!” Noya took him by the shoulders, his gaze fierce. “Do you want to work things out with Suga?”

 

“Uh, yes?” Daichi frowned. Why else would he be there?

 

“I can’t hear you!”

 

“Yes!” His voice grew with confidence.

 

“LOUDER!”

 

“YES!” Daichi boomed.

 

“Great! Then do _exactly_ as I say.”

 

And so Daichi agreed to sit in a supply closet in silence for the rest of the afternoon, plagued by a niggling suspicion that he had been in some way tricked. He prayed that Noya knew what he was doing but suspected otherwise.

 

When he finally heard the sounds of various staff members calling out their goodbyes he breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever Noya was doing was _bound_ to be over soon. Assuming Noya hadn’t forgotten Daichi was there and had left him to be locked in the building overnight.

 

He had pushed himself into the corner with boxes of stationary piled high on either side of him and his crutches propped against the wall, which was where he sat for the duration of the afternoon, his boredom and frustration growing with every passing hour. The advantage to this position didn’t reveal itself until early evening when Daichi found he had a perfect view of the door as Suga fell through it.

 

Well, that was one way of breaking the monotony.

 

 He straightened, blinking, but Suga hadn’t yet noticed him.

 

It was only when Suga started hammering at the door that Noya’s plan became clear to him.

 

He cleared his throat. He was kind enough to ignore the scream the announcement of his presence caused.

 

“I would like to start by stating very clearly,” Daichi began, “that I did _not_ know he was going to do that.”

 

Suga froze, still facing the door. “Oh God.”

 

“Nope, just me,” Daichi deadpanned. Suga turned around slowly, as if hoping Daichi’s voice were a hallucination.

 

“Oh God,” Suga repeated with a wince. “He didn’t.”

 

“Seems like he did.” Daichi watched with apprehension as the full horror of the situation took hold. He prayed that Suga would respond calmly.

 

Suga grabbed a stack of sticky notes from a shelf and hurled it at Daichi’s head. Considering the circumstances, that could practically count as a calm and rational reaction in Daichi’s book. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t object to it.    

 

“Ow, hey!” Daichi raised an arm in defence. “I’m as surprised as you are!”

 

“If you didn’t know this was his plan,” Suga threw another block of stickies, “then what the hell are you doing sitting in my stationary closet, pray tell?” He threw another.

 

Daichi’s reflexes kicked in in time to catch the last stack. “He told me to wait here!”

 

Suga raised his arm, and Daichi flinched, but instead of throwing more stationary Suga pressed his hand to his forehead with a deep groan. “How long have you been in here?”

 

“Uh, since lunch?”

 

“Right. So you sat here all afternoon for no reason except because Noya told you to. You two don’t even get along!”

 

“Oh, well we kinda do now, I think. We sorted it out.”

 

Suga groaned again. Daichi marvelled at how much exhaustion could fit into one sound. “Beside the point. _Why are you here?!_ ”

 

“Because I want to fix things with you!” Daichi’s words brought Suga to a standstill. He blinked and removed his hand from his forehead in order to look Daichi in the eyes, expectant. “Please,” Daichi started again, his heart soaring when he realised that Suga was at least hearing him out. “Everything is such a mess. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m to blame. I have no idea where we are any more, or what you think about it all. But… I think we had something good. Something worth saving. And besides, uh,” Daichi swallowed. “I miss you.”

 

Suga’s frown softened as a sigh escaped his mouth. He took a seat on the floor beside Daichi. “There were probably better ways of telling me that.”

 

Daichi nodded, glancing up at the door with a small smile. “So I’m guessing you don’t know anything about lock-picking?”

 

“Dammit Jim, I’m a doctor, not a locksmith,” Suga retorted flatly.

 

“Touché.”

 

Suga’s eyes scanned the room. Daichi knew he would find little of interest; he had spent all afternoon staring at the same four walls, after all. The walls were bare, the shelves half-filled with staplers and empty files. There wasn’t so much as a window. Daichi couldn’t think of a duller room to be locked in if he tried.

 

Suga nodded towards a heavy book lying open on Daichi’s other side. “What are you reading?”

 

“Oh.” Daichi glanced at the tone, the closest thing to entertainment he had come across all afternoon. “Noya left it in here to stop me getting bored.”

 

“What is it?” Suga leaned in to get a better view, causing their arms to touch.  

 

“A medical dictionary,” Daichi grumbled. “Noya has a peculiar idea of an interesting read.”

 

Suga burst out laughing. Daichi raised his eyebrows, trying to look annoyed, but it wasn’t long before a chuckle escaped him too. “To be fair, I do know the names of a lot more diseases now. Specifically ones beginning with “A”” 

 

Suga wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, Noya. Maybe after I’ve murdered him for this we’ll all have a good laugh about it.”

 

“I’m pretty sure there’s something in the Hippocratic Oath against murder, isn’t there?”

 

Suga snorted. “A few hours with a medical dictionary and suddenly you’re the expert, huh? Don’t defend him. He’s getting what’s coming.” 

 

“Speaking of Noya, did I hear him yell something about emergency supplies?”

   

“Oh yes. This should be interesting.” Suga jumped up and pulled a plastic green bucket over from its place by the door. Judging by the ease with which he moved it and the ominous rattling it emitted, Noya hadn’t left them with much. Daichi sighed.

 

“Let’s have a look.” He reached in, rummaged, and pulled out two cans of cola. “Alright, not bad.” He handed one to Suga, who cracked it open.

 

“What else is there?” Suga took a sip.

 

Daichi reached in again and fished out a couple bags of peanuts which he dropped on Suga’s lap. “Could be worse.”

 

Suga shook his head, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “I’m allergic to nuts. He _knows_ I’m allergic, I’ve told him a million times.”

 

Daichi chuckled. “Never mind, maybe there’s something in this for you to eat.” He pulled out a small brown paper bag with a winky face drawn on in sharpie. He opened it and peered in. When he caught sight of the contents, his heart stopped.

 

 Fucking _hell_ , Noya.

 

“Daichi? What’s in the bag?” Suga asked, eyes narrowing.

 

Nope. There was no way he was showing Suga. He would die.

 

“Nothing!”  Daichi dropped the bag back into the bucket.

 

“What is it?! Why have you gone such a weird colour?” Suga reached for the bucket, curiosity peaked, but Daichi yanked it away, holding it as far away from Suga as possible. “Hey!”

 

“There’s nothing left in there, really! Daichi gabbled, trying to fend off Suga’s arms.

 

“Yes – there – is – let – me – see!” Suga was almost crawling over Daichi in his attempt to reach the bucket.

 

“No – there – really – isn’t!” Daichi hooked an arm around Suga’s waist to pull him backwards, pushing the bucket away with his free hand.

 

Suga slid downwards, landing chest-to-chest on top of Daichi with a grunt just as Daichi knocked the bucket onto its side and out of their reach. The pair wrestled for a moment, but with Daichi’s leg in a cast it was far from a fair fight. It was easy for Suga to straddle Daichi, pinning his hands down on either side of his head. He failed to hide a fit of giggles when he saw Daichi’s burning scowl of indignation.

 

“You’re stronger than you look,” Daichi grunted, pushing up against Suga’s grip on his wrists. He tried to ignore the way the muscles in Suga’s arms flexed in response.

 

Suga smirked, too wrapped up in his victory to remember why they had been wrestling in the first place. Then his eyes fell on the bucket.

 

He reached out and yanked it towards him. Daichi wriggled beneath Suga in the hope of unbalancing him, but all he received for his troubles was a scolding tsk. Despite Daichi’s best efforts, Suga succeeded in retrieving the small paper bag from the bucket at last. He shook it and listened to the faint rustle with a puzzled frown.

 

“There _is_ something in here, you liar.” Suga opened it with a curious glance in Daichi’s direction.

 

He looked inside. For a moment he was speechless. Then, “Nishinoya Yuu, I am going to _kill_ you.”

 

Daichi was no longer the only person blushing.

 

Noya hadn’t the presence of mind to leave Daichi with anything more interesting than a medical dictionary. He hadn’t remembered to leave a snack that Suga could eat without dying. But the one thing he _had_ ensured was left in the room for them…

 

_Condoms._

If Suga needed an accomplice when he was hiding Noya’s body, Daichi would be the first to volunteer. 

 

 Suga looked into the bag. Then, with a sick sense of horror, his gaze dropped to Daichi, still pinned between Suga’s thighs and looking up with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

 

Suga dropped the bag back into the bucket and rolled off Daichi in one fluid motion.

 

Daichi cleared his throat, pushing himself back up to a sitting position. “Well,” he began after a pause, “that was awkward.”

 

Suga snorted. “Oh, Noya. He was trying to get us to communicate. Look at us. Fighting over condoms.” He sighed. “I suppose…” he paused, biting his lip. “I suppose I _should_ apologise. I shouldn’t have cut you off like I did.”

 

“No, I should be the one apologising. All this mess, it’s my fault.”

 

Suga shook his head. “It isn’t your fault, Daichi, it’s just… life. Life is always messy.”

 

They fell silent, listening to the falling rain. There was a distant rumble of thunder, and had there been a window in the room, Daichi was sure they would have seen lightening.  

 

“Suga?” He blinked away the imaginary thunderclouds his mind had sent spinning around the room.

 

“Mmm?” Suga leaned his head back against the wall, eyelids drooping. He looked ready to fall asleep.

 

“Can I…Can I ask you something?” Daichi licked his lips nervously. His question would ruin their moment of peace, Daichi was sure, but he couldn’t continue without _knowing_.

 

Suga turned his head until his eyes met Daichi’s warm brown ones, a small nod as his answer.

 

“The night you came to my flat. What did Oikawa say to you?”

 

Suga clenched his jaw, eyes darkening. “He didn’t tell you?”

 

“No.” Daichi’s gut twisted when he saw the look in Suga’s eyes as panic surged within him. “He refused to talk about it. Please, I need to know.”

 

Suga clasped and unclasped his hands in his lap. “Oikawa explained everything to me.”

 

Daichi paled. He could have sworn he felt the world tilt, because that could be the only explanation for the horrific dizzying sickness taking over him. “Everything?”

 

“How you were only pretending to be involved with Oikawa. How he blackmailed you to make his flatmate jealous.”

 

Daichi opened his mouth and closed it a few times. Could that have been all Oikawa had done? Had he been panicking over nothing?  “R-Really?”

 

Suga raised an eyebrow. “What else were you expecting?”

 

“I don’t know, it’s just… the way he was talking about it, Oikawa made it sound as though he had done something awful. But maybe he was messing with me.”

 

Suga nibbled at his lip, breaking eye-contact.

                         

“Suga? What is it, what else did he say?” Daichi failed to hide the rising panic as it returned to his voice.

 

“He didn’t _say_ anything, as such…”

 

Daichi narrowed his eyes. “He did something though, didn’t he?”

 

Suga swallowed, blushing. “Yes.”

 

Daichi waited, his stomach churning.

 

“I didn’t really know what to think of it at the time. Honestly, I still don’t.” Suga looked up to the ceiling. “It was just…I don’t know. I don’t understand what he was trying to do.”

 

“Suga,” Daichi’s voice caught in his throat, “you’re worrying me.”

 

“Well, he, um,” Suga swallowed again, “ _kissed me_.”

 

Oikawa’s very first threat hissed through Daichi’s mind like a snake.

 

_…You will pretend to be my boyfriend or I will go after Mister Refreshing..._

And he had. He actually had.

 

“I see,” Daichi replied at last. He should have been more upset than he was. He should have been making death threats, or apologising to Suga _again_. But his capacity for emotion had been exhausted for the day. He didn’t have the energy left to be angry.

 

Suga’s jaw dropped. “I see? That’s your reaction? What, is this a regular occurrence with your neighbour?”

 

“Well… no,” Daichi sighed. “But it’s exactly the kind of thing he _would_ do.” He couldn’t even find the strength to be surprised.

 

“Daichi, you have _weird_ friends.”

 

“Oikawa wasn’t the one to lock us in a closet together!” Daichi folded his arms, momentarily indignant, before wondering why he was defending Oikawa anyway.

 

“Alright, point taken.” Suga took another sip from his coke. “But…I still don’t understand what he was trying to _do_.”

 

“He was… He was using you to upset me. He kissed you because he knows…” Daichi paused with a shiver that felt a little too close to a tremble. “He knows I like you.”

 

“Like me?” Suga’s voice shook.

 

“Well, I mean, you know,” Daichi stuttered, “I care about you. You’re my friend.” He took a moment to curse himself, to curse his cowardice, because really, why was he _still_ hiding the truth?

 

He was _weak_.

 

For a split second he saw Suga’s eyes widen, his mouth starting to form a reply.

 

There was another crack of thunder, and the pair were plunged into darkness as the power cut out.

 

“Christ!” Suga jumped, and something flew up into the air. A second later his can of coke landed on Daichi’s chest, spewing cold liquid everywhere.

 

“Gaah!” Daichi fumbled around in the dark as the can rolled of his chest, spilling even more.

 

His fumbling hands brushed against Suga’s, whose voice was full of apology as he retrieved the stray can.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot-”

 

Daichi tugged at his shirt, which was now soaked through and sticking to his skin. “Don’t worry about it.” He jumped a little when he felt Suga’s hands probing for him in the dark, falling against his chest.

 

“Oh no, Daichi, your shirt is _drenched_.”

 

He couldn’t see Suga’s face, couldn’t see _anything_ in the pressing darkness, he could only feel Suga’s fingers as they tugged Daichi’s dripping shirt up and over his head, an action that nearly gave Daichi a heart attack.

 

No, he wasn’t imagining things. Suga really _was_ removing his shirt.

 

He had imagined this scenario before. It didn’t normally involve spilled coke cans and closet imprisonment in his mind.

 

Suga discarded the shirt. Daichi shivered as the cool air brushed over his skin, suddenly very glad to be in the dark.

 

“So, um,” Daichi continued in a breathy voice. “As I was saying…” He let himself trail off, leaving the end of the sentence hanging for Suga to pick up or dismiss as he saw fit.

 

He couldn’t see Suga’s face, but he could hear shallow breathing, feel the warmth of his body beside him.

 

“I’m,” Suga paused, swallowed. “I’m glad to have you as a friend.”

 

A smile tugged at the corners of Daichi’s mouth, but it went unseen in the dark. It might not have been the open-hearted confession Noya had wanted for them, but Daichi certainly still counted it as a victory. He had his friend back.

 

He nudged Suga’s shoulder, and Suga nudged back with a chuckle. For a moment they listened to the wind running through the streets and screaming at the night and in the darkness Daichi couldn’t supress another violent shiver.

 

“Are you cold, Daichi?” Suga’s voice broke the silence, filled with concern.

 

“N-No,” said Daichi, his teeth chattering.   

 

“Liar!” Suga began to shift and wriggle beside him.

 

“What are you doing?!” Daichi yelped as Suga’s elbow knocked his head.

 

“I’m giving you my shirt. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t put something on-”

 

“What?! But then you won’t have anything to wear-”

 

“Well, it’s my fault anyway, so-”

 

“No, hey, keep your shirt on!” Daichi found Suga’s hand’s in the dark and caught them in his.

 

“No, no, it’s fine, let me just-” Suga pulled his hands away to continue unbuttoning, but Daichi didn’t relinquish his grip.

 

“You really don’t need to-” Daichi tried to take hold of Suga’s arms but before he could Suga’s shirt slipped off his shoulders.

 

“I insist!” Suga poked Daichi in the stomach, but before he had the chance to pull his arms through the sleeves Daichi grabbed the fabric and pulled it back up over Suga’s shoulders.

 

“I _will_ fight you over this,” Daichi growled.

 

Suga stilled, and under the palms of his hands Daichi felt the slightest of shudders.

 

“See,” Daichi whispered, “you’re already cold and you haven’t even removed your shirt yet.”

 

“Well,” Suga murmured. Daichi swore he could feel Suga’s breath brush against his skin. “I suppose fighting is another way of keeping warm.” He poked Daichi in the stomach again with a snicker, breaking the moment.

 

Daichi let out a brief chuckle. When he felt another jab from Suga accompanied by more laughter he lunged forwards, thinking only of revenge. His hands fell upon Suga in the dark, at which point the door burst open.    

 

Daichi screwed up his eyes against the blinding beam of light that fell across them. There was a deafening shriek and the sound of a torch being dropped on the floor.

 

“S-S-S-Suga!” The large silhouette jumped backwards.

 

“RYU! IT WORKED! YA GOTTA SEE THIS!” a smaller figure bellowed.

 

“No, he doesn’t!” Despite the larger figure’s protests, a third person joined them at the doorway with a whoop of joy.

 

“Man, they’re all over each other!”

 

The tallest figure whimpered as if physically pained by the antics of the other two.

 

Suga raised his arm to shield his eyes. “Asahi?”

 

Nishinoya guffawed as he retrieved the torch from the floor, the light of which fell upon a bald man Daichi didn’t recognise.

 

“Ya think it worked, then?” The bald man gestured toward Daichi and Suga with a smirk. 

 

“Dude, they’re both _topless_.” Noya held his arms out as if waiting for a standing ovation.

 

“Yeah, but sometimes I take my top off, like, just ‘cause. My partner yells at me if I do it at work, though.”

 

“Wait, partner like _cop partner_ or partner like-”

 

“Both of you, turn around! Let them get dressed!” Asahi had his back to them and, as if that wasn’t enough, also had a hand over his eyes.

 

 “Or maybe we should just, y’know,” Noya smirked, “come back later?”

 

“You have it all wrong,” Suga cut in with a scowl. Noya shot Daichi a puzzled look which Suga thankfully missed, too busy quizzing Asahi. “Why did you come back?”

 

“Explanations later, will you both please just get dressed?!” Asahi replied in a strained voice, refusing to turn around.

 

“I can’t,” Daichi interrupted. “My shirt’s all wet.”

 

Asahi looked ready to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandatory "Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor" joke: check
> 
> Oh, Noya. Can we blame him?
> 
> Next week: probably the most awkward car ride of Daichi's life


	15. The One With the Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laughter is the best medicine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF FREE! ETERNAL SUMMER CAN PULL OFF THE BED SHARE TROPE THEN SO CAN I

 

Asahi’s car was not built for five grown men. Grown being used in the loosest sense of the word – Noya’s behaviour that evening had proved beyond doubt that he was a toddler masquerading as an adult. Suga was too tired to be angry. He would be angry later. For now, all he wanted to do was rest his head against the cool glass of the car window and not think about anything, least of all the day’s insanity. Unfortunately, being crammed into a small space with four other people didn’t make for a peaceful ride. 

 

“…and when Noya told me where you were I drove us both straight over! I had no idea he would be so irresponsible!” Asahi shot his version of a glare at Noya via the rear-view mirror, which carried more despair than it did anger.  

 

“Really?” Daichi piped up. “You expected responsibility from the guy who burned your house down? Hey, ow!” 

 

Suga turned around in his seat to glare at the trio in the backseat. “Behave yourselves. The three of you have caused enough trouble tonight.” 

 

 “Trouble?! I didn’t – and he elbowed me!” Daichi huffed, crushed between Tanaka and Noya, who sent him twin glowers.  

 

“I don’t care who started it, I’m finishing it.” Suga shot them his most menacing look, and they fell still under his gaze. He squinted at them for a further second to ensure he had made his point before turning to face forwards once more.  

 

“I wasn’t irresponsible,” Noya muttered. “Tanaka was keeping watch. He could have intervened if there was an emergency.”  

 

“What, like a power cut?” Daichi grumbled.  

 

“Yeah, like – hey, he’s right, why didn’t you go in when the lights went out?” 

 

“Dude!” Tanaka puffed out his chest. “Power cuts are, like, _super_ romantic. Everyone knows that. I wasn’t gonna interrupt a potential moment of passion! We’re lucky we didn’t walk in on worse!” 

 

Asahi’s knuckles where white as he gripped the steering wheel. “We’re _lucky_ that nothing dangerous happened. You can’t lock people up like that! What if they had needed the bathroom?!” 

 

“I left them a bucket,” Noya replied with a shrug, and Tanaka burst out laughing.  

 

“And if I had eaten the peanuts you left? I could have died!” Suga snapped. The pair fell silent. 

 

“Sorry Suga,” Noya said after a pause, and Tanaka echoed the apology. They drove on for a few minutes in silence. 

 

“So, uh…” Daichi turned to Tanaka. “Have we met?” 

 

“Aw, I guess not!” Tanaka slapped Daichi’s back with more force than necessary. “Tanaka’s the name. I arrested these guys for breaking and entering last week.” 

 

“Ah,” Daichi said over Asahi’s splutter. “I must have missed that.” 

 

It was a quiet giggle from Suga that set them off; after that it took less than a second for the car to fill with laughter. 

 

“It wasn’t funny!” Suga spluttered. “Asahi was hit with a baseball bat!”  

 

“I still have a black eye!” Asahi agreed, failing hold back a hysterical giggle.  

 

“Oh man.” Nishinoya wiped a tear from his eye. “We need to tell him about Tanaka’s stripper night next!” 

 

“We do not!” Suga wrapped his arms around his stomach and slid down in his seat.  

 

“You all need to stop! I’m going to crash the car!”  

 

“I’m surrounded by lunatics.” Daichi shook his head with a grin.  

 

“Hell yes!” Tanaka held his hand out and Daichi hi-fived it obligingly.      

 

They crawled past street after street of darkened homes, Asahi’s caution from the  lack of street lighting leaving them overtaken by pedestrians. The tiny car felt all the brighter in comparison, lit up by the bright mood that had suddenly taken hold.  

 

“Directions to your place, Daichi?” Asahi asked as he slowed to let an elderly lady in a Morris Minor overtake.  

 

“No rush though,” Noya snorted. “At Asahi’s speed we won’t arrive until next week.” 

 

“Carelessness costs lives, Noya.” Asahi slowed down to give a cyclist space. They crawled along behind him for some time.  

 

“Daichi can’t go back to his flat, anyway.” Suga hadn’t bothered to straighten up again after his giggling fit, so he remained slouched in his seat with his seat belt cutting into the underside of his chin. “The lift won’t be working without electricity, and he’ll never manage all the stairs in that cast.” 

 

Daichi cursed. “I forgot about that.” 

 

“No worries, you can stay with us,” Suga yawned. “Four’s company?” 

 

“Five!” Noya interjected. “Tanaka can come too, right?” 

 

Suga pinched the bridge of his nose. “As long as there’s a decent night’s sleep in my immediate future, you can all do as you like.” 

 

 “Awesome! Can we make pancakes?!”  

 

Suga yawned again. “Ask me in the morning. And remember, you’re still banned from cooking unsupervised.” 

 

“I should think so,” Daichi muttered.  

 

  “Yes, _mother_ ,” Noya grumbled as Asahi pulled up outside Suga’s place. They spilled out onto the pavement, making a level of noise not socially acceptable for the time of night.  

 

“Wow, Suga, is this your house?” Daichi turned to him, smiling, and Suga’s heart stuttered.  

 

“It’s nothing special.” Suga rummaged through his pockets for his keys. 

 

"Looks too much like all the other ones if you ask me," Noya muttered, unheard. 

 

“It’s beautiful.” Daichi’s sincerity caught Suga off-guard and he glanced up at his home with new eyes. The bright green door he and Asahi had painted together. The window boxes bursting bright with the snowdrops Suga had planted last year. The ivy climbing and twisting over old red brick. The sunshine-yellow daffodil print curtains Noya had found for him.  

 

Daichi was right. Suga’s home was beautiful, and he loved it.  

 

Pain suddenly tore through Suga’s chest as if from nowhere, pulling a gasp from his lips. He brought a hand up and held it over his heart as everything around him dimmed into static.   

 

“Suga?! Suga, are you okay?” Daichi’s voice was distant, blurring and mixing with the others around him.  

 

Suga closed his eyes and waited for his breathing to return to normal. When he opened them he was faced with a wall of concerned faces. “I’m so sorry.” Suga coughed, forcing air back into his lungs. “I don’t know what came over me.” 

 

“You’ve gone as grey as your hair!” Daichi placed a steadying hand on his arm.  

 

“I’m fine, really.” Suga looked away, but couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch.  

 

“Let’s get you inside. I can give you a check-over.” Asahi took Suga’s other arm and lead them towards the front door. 

 

“There’s really no need,” Suga protested weakly as Noya took the keys from him and unlocked the door. His objections were ignored as they all bundled into his living room and sat him down on the couch. The lights flickered back on just as Daichi was draping a blanket around his shoulders, his concerned expression and pale cheeks illuminated in the new light.  

 

“We’ll get you something to drink while Asahi makes sure you’re okay!” Noya beamed, placing a hand on one of Daichi’s shoulders while Tanaka took the other. Between them they steered Daichi towards the kitchen. Suga shook his head and sighed as Asahi took a seat beside him on the couch. Suga could tell by Asahi's expression that he was now in Doctor Mode, and there would be no arguing with him until he was convinced of Suga’s complete health. Suga was in for one hell of an interrogation.  

 

And so, he suspected, was Daichi **.**  

 

***   

 

“Uh, does it really take three of us to make tea?” Daichi protested as he filled the kettle with water.  

 

“Yes!” Nishinoya closed the door behind them while Tanaka studied him, hand pinching lightly at his chin as though he were stroking an imaginary beard.  

 

“What are you doing?” Daichi asked. Tanaka took a step towards Daichi, who, to his shame, backed away, bumping against the kitchen counter behind him.  

 

Tanaka leaned forwards, eyes wide, grinning toothily. “I’m being the bad cop.” 

 

“Y-You don’t need to interrogate me!” Daichi straightened up with bravery he didn’t feel.  

 

“Hmmmmmmmm?” Tanaka growled. Noya appeared at his side, also growling. 

 

“Aren’t you meant to be the good cop if he’s the bad one, Noya?” Daichi groaned. 

 

“Why can’t we both be bad? Bad cop is more fun!” Noya mimicked Tanaka’s stance, but it was far less intimidating considering he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach anywhere near Daichi’s eye level.  

 

Daichi folded his arms, frowning, and the pair backed down. “What do you want to interrogate me about?” 

 

“Isn’t it obvious?!” Noya raised his hands into the air in exasperation. “We wanna know what happened in the closet!” 

 

“We found Narnia.” Daichi deadpanned. 

 

Tanaka gasped. 

 

“I was being sarcastic.” 

 

“Oh.” Tanaka deflated. “I knew that."

 

"Come on, dude, ya got us on the edge on our seats!" Noya interrupted. "What happened?!” 

 

“Nothing exciting. We sat and talked. We made up. We’re friends again.” Daichi smiled despite himself. “I guess I have you two to thank for that. Even if I disapprove of your methods.”  

 

Noya nodded, grinning back. “Good.” 

 

“I thought the point was to get them together, though?” Tanaka frowned. “Like, _together_ together.” 

 

“Dude, they were shirtless!” 

 

“Yeah, but I told ya, that doesn’t necessarily mean-” 

 

Daichi cleared his throat, and they fell silent. “I spilt juice on my shirt, so Suga offered his. We are _friends_. That’s it.” 

 

“Told ya.” Tanaka nodded.  

 

Noya’s shoulders slumped. “But you still wanna date him, don’t you? Doesn’t it hurt? Man, I wasted so much time getting up the nerve to ask Asahi out, and all that waiting was agony!” 

 

Tanaka tilted his head to one side. “I thought you said you asked him out within, like, five minutes of meeting him.” 

 

“Yeah, man, longest fuckin’ five minutes of my life. It was _agony_.” 

 

Daichi bit his lip. He couldn’t deny that the situation hurt. But it didn’t hurt half as much as the idea of losing Suga again. “Leave it, Noya. Right now, I’m just glad to have him back in my life. There’s no need to rush anything - it’s not like he’s going anywhere.”  

 

Noya looked ready to object, but they were interrupted before he got the chance. 

 

“You three! How long does it take to make some tea?!” Asahi’s voice called from the living room.  

 

“Sorry!” Daichi called. “We couldn’t find the sugar!”  

 

“I’m in here!” Suga yelled with a laugh, his voice no longer faint and panicked as it had been moments ago. If there were a sound more perfect than Suga’s laughter ringing out through the cosy little house like chiming bells, Daichi didn't want to hear it. 

 

“Man,” Tanaka whispered to Noya, “he’s _so_ screwed.” 

 

Daichi couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed. It was true, after all. 

 

***  

 

Having checked Suga over to his satisfaction, Asahi announced that his strange turn had likely been nothing, and prescribed a good meal and rest. 

 

The evening ended with the five of them curled up around Suga’s TV, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and watching the cheesiest film they could find - and in Suga's collection, such a title was hotly contested. After furious debate they had settled on a Disney filmas the least controversial option (Noya threatened mutiny if they made him watch another rom-com and Asahi threatened tears if they watched a anything remotely scary).  

 

However, it turned out that with their film choice, tears were unavoidable as far as Disney was concerned. Asahi blew his nose as the credits began to roll and Daichi tried to hide a sniffle. The puddle on the floor that had once been Tanaka and Noya continued to sob.  

 

“Hey.” Daichi nudged Suga, who had been nibbling on his thumbnail for some time. “Are you alright?” 

 

“I’m fine.” Suga’s voice shook. Daichi put it down to the film.  

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“Yes.” Suga gave him a watery smile. “Disney always gets me.” He pulled his knees in against his chest and watched the credits role with a blank expression. Daichi frowned.  

 

“Are you sure this is just the movie?” 

 

“What? Of course!” Suga answered, a little too quickly. He coughed and wiped at his eyes before continuing in a voice loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. “I better start sorting beds out for the night.” 

 

“I’ll take the couch,” Tanaka and Daichi said at the same time. 

 

“Tanaka gets the couch. Daichi needs a proper bed for his leg. Asahi and Noya, you can keep using the guest room.” Suga began clearing up the remains of their take-away.  

 

“Let me get those.” Daichi’s hand brushed against Suga’s as he took the empty boxes, but if Suga noticed he didn't comment. 

 

It didn’t take long to set Tanaka up on the couch with a pillow and blanket, but it took a lot longer for Daichi to make it up the single flight of stairs in Suga’s house. Thank God he hadn’t tried to tackle the climb to his apartment during the blackout – he would never have made it. 

 

Asahi and Noya vanished into the guest room, leaving Daichi and Suga alone in the corridor.  

 

“You can sleep in here.” Suga opened a door to their right with a nervous smile.  

 

The room they entered was small and cosy with pale blue walls and the faintest smell of mint. Or was it vanilla? Perhaps a pleasing blend of the two – Daichi couldn’t decide. Even though it was night, Daichi could imagine sunlight pouring through the huge windows that looked out upon a flourishing green garden patch. In his mind’s eye he saw the rays of summer light catching sunbeams in the air and illuminating the vine-patterned green carpet while a warm breeze toyed with the curtains. The image warmed him from head to toe. Daichi inhaled deeply as if wishing to absorb the room’s tranquility.  

 

“So this is your room.” Daichi smiled at the collection of snow globes that lined the windowsill. Each was inscribed with the name of a country or city, and several displayed places Daichi had never even heard of. 

 

“Yes.” Suga picked one up and shook it gently. Flakes swirled and tumbled around a miniature Eiffel Tower.   

 

“You must love travel.” 

 

“I do. I take every opportunity I can to see the world.” He watched the snow spin, his gaze distant. “I thought I had settled down. But… I don’t know. Maybe I’m not done yet.” He set the globe down with a sigh.  

 

“I would offer to get you one from India,” Daichi said with a sly grin, “but I don’t think I’ll be doing much traveling with this.” He gestured towards his leg.  

 

“I guess not.” Suga turned to face him, silver moonlight catching his face. A familiar ache took root in Daichi’s chest. His eyes dropped to Suga’s lips. Perhaps they tasted of mint, or vanilla, or tea, or all three, and Daichi really wished he knew which. He wished he could run his thumb across those lips, his fingers through that hair, or place his hands on those hips and pull that warm body into his. He could hear so clearly the gasp that would escape, the heavy breath that would ghost across Daichi’s skin as he leaned in to press kisses across his cheek, down his neck, across his collarbone, the tiny moan Suga would bite back.

 

Instead he did nothing. Suga returned the snow globe to its place and the moment ended.  

 

“Sweet dreams, Daichi.” Suga smiled again. There was something amiss in his eyes. It reminded Daichi of how he had frozen up outside the house – an incident which had shaken Daichi more than he cared to admit. Suga was hiding something – Daichi knew him well enough to see that much. But now was not the time to push it.  

 

“Wait.” Daichi caught Suga’s arm as he turned to leave. “Where are you going to sleep?” 

 

Suga stopped. “Uh-” 

 

“I can’t kick you out of your own room!” Daichi glanced at the small double-bed, which was adorned with a patchwork quilt and more pillows than could ever possibly be needed.  

 

“Daichi, you need it for your leg!” 

 

“Yeah, well, you need it too!” 

 

“Oh, for the love of – look, I’m happy to share if you are.” Suga rubbed at his temples. “But if I kick your leg in my sleep it’s your funeral.” 

 

“Right. Sure, fine.” Daichi struggled to keep his voice level, but the idea of sharing a bed with Suga was – well – it was distracting. But then again, they had fallen asleep together on Daichi’s couch enough times. It wasn’t a big deal, was it?  

 

Suga pulled open the doors of his old oak wardrobe and started rummaging within. “I can lend you some pajamas.” 

 

“Nah, you don’t have to. It’s too much bother changing clothes in a cast. I’ll be fine with what I’m wearing.” A pair of his baggiest jeans with one of the legs rolled up so it stopped above his cast was one of the few items of clothing Daichi was still capable of wearing, the only other options being tracksuit bottoms or his volleyball shorts. None of the above offered much in terms of fashion or respectability, but then again, there was only so much dignity one could have while wearing a fluorescent pink cast with “Kick here” and a winking cat face scrawled across it.  

 

“If you’re sure.” Suga pulled a bundle of clothes from the depths of the wardrobe. “I’ll be back in a second.” He left the room with his pajamas folded over his arm.  

 

While Suga changed in the bathroom, Daichi pulled off his shirt (borrowed because his was still covered in juice) and dropped it over a chair before propping his crutches against the wall and easing himself into bed. He used a couple of the numerous pillows (how many did one man need?!) to prop his leg up, before enveloping himself in the covers. Suga’s scent engulfed him, and wrapped up in the warmth as he was, Daichi felt as though he were receiving a hug.  

 

“Comfy?” Suga pulled the door shut behind him.  

 

Daichi looked up, and raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is that?” 

 

Suga looked down and tugged at his pajama top. “It’s a shrimp!”  

 

Daichi burst out laughing. “Shrimp pajamas. You have _shrimp_ _pajamas_.”  

 

Suga shook his head, but Daichi’s laughter didn’t stop, growing louder when he noticed the matching bottoms, which were dotted with dozens of tiny shrimp swimming through pink and white waves.  

 

“Don’t be rude!” Suga picked up a pillow and whacked Daichi with it.  

 

“Hey, I’m an invalid! You can’t attack an invalid!” Daichi held up his hands in defence, but Suga was merciless.  

 

“Watch me!” He whacked Daichi again, and Daichi yelped. He was seconds from grabbing a pillow of his own when a yell came from the adjoining room. 

 

“WILL YOU HOOLIGANS SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP?” 

 

“SORRY, NOYA!” Suga tried to shout in reply, but Daichi’s giggles were contagious.  

 

“Who is he calling a hooligan?!” Daichi protested indignantly. Suga put his finger to his lips and tried to shush him, but all it took was a poke in the side for Suga to crumble, shoving his face into a pillow to quieten his giggles.  

 

Daichi wrapped his arms around his stomach as he shook with laughter, flopping back into the pillows. At long last they both calmed down, and Suga joined Daichi under the covers, bringing with him a draft of cool air.  

 

“Christ!” Daichi jumped when Suga’s foot knocked against him. “You’re freezing!” 

 

“Sorry! Did I hit your leg?” Suga asked as he reached over Daichi to turn off the bedside lamp.  

 

“No, it’s fine.” Daichi replied, his breath hitching as the fabric of Suga’s top brushed against his chest. He felt Suga’s breath stroke the skin of his neck as Suga’s fingers fell upon the switch and plunged them into darkness. Suga moved back to his own side of the bed and Daichi shivered, missing the momentary warmth Suga had brought.  

 

“Goodnight, Daichi.” Suga spoke softly, words hazed by oncoming sleep.  

 

“Goodnight, Suga.” Daichi replied in a voice that was still horse from laughter.  

 

He lay awake for some time, listening to the storm tearing itself apart outside and watching the steady rise and fall of Suga’s chest outlined in the moonlight. 

 

It wasn’t long before Daichi, too, fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prize goes to the first person to guess where I'm going with this.
> 
> Remember when this thing had actual plot? Lmao me neither.


	16. The One With the Powercut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo, Kenma, candlelight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, it's getting a little heavy this chap. If anyone has a question or a problem with anything discussed feel free, as always, to talk to me about it.

It was early evening when the lights in Kuroo and Kenma’s apartment flickered out. Kuroo scowled at the microwave which had died mid-way through heating a TV dinner. In the living room, the television, which had been airing _Friends_ repeats to an empty room, fell silent. Kuroo closed his eyes and sighed.

 

“Kenma? Kenma, do we have any torches?” He received no response; Kenma was, as usual, holed up in his room. He emerged only once or twice a day, slipping into the kitchen to snatch as many bags of Cheetos as he could carry before diving back into his room. The only reason Kuroo knew he was still alive because of the empty packets that continued to materialize in the bin.

 

He stumbled into the corridor, reaching blindly for Kenma’s door. His feet tripped on a soft, furry form, sending him flying. He heard a hiss as a set of paws ran over his back before dashing into the kitchen.

 

“Damn cat,” Kuroo cursed as he pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed at the bruise he could feel forming on his knee. The door he had been searching for opened, and Kuroo screwed his eyes up against the blinding light shining down on him.

 

“What are you doing?” Kenma pushed his headphones down around his neck and lowered his phone, which was still on torch setting.

 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a power cut,” Kuroo grumbled as he climbed to his feet. “Do we have any torches?”

 

“A power cut?” Kenma blinked and glanced up and down the corridor. “I didn’t notice.”

 

“Of course not. You were probably sitting in the dark on your laptop anyway.” Kuroo’s words came out with more scorn than he intended.

 

“No sadder than what you were doing,” Kenma sniped.

 

“Okay, okay.” Kuroo held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. “I just want a torch.”

 

Kenma shrugged. “I have my mobile. But it’s about to…” The phone bleeped, flashing a low battery icon, before the screen turned black. “…die,” Kenma finished mournfully.

 

“Fantastic,” Kuroo muttered. The pressing silence he met combined with the darkness before him made him wonder for a moment if Kenma had left. When he spoke at last, Kuroo jumped.

 

“Wait here.” Kenma brushed against Kuroo as he passed, and moments later an array of clatters and crashes echoed down the corridor. He followed the sounds into the kitchen, tripping up once more when Altair dashed by his feet. He was making the most of the cover darkness provided – catching Kuroo twice in as many minutes had to be a record. Kuroo cursed.

 

“Are you okay?” Kenma’s voice came from the other side of the table.

 

“It’s just the cat.” Kuroo felt his way around the kitchen until his hands found Kenma’s shoulders. He jumped again, pulling his hands back as he felt Kenma stiffen at the contact. “Crap, sorry.”

 

His apology was met with the sound of what sounded like wood scratching against sandpaper. A spark of light jumped into life between them before blossoming into a flame. The match Kenma had lit illuminated his face and threw shadows across the counter where a large green candle had appeared. Kenma lit it with a steady hand before shaking out the match.

 

“Well.” Kuroo moved closer in order to make the most of the tiny circle of light. He glanced at the long shadows that languished in the corners of the room. “Better than nothing.”

 

Kenma stared at the fragile dancing flame. “We only have one candle.”

 

“So?” Kuroo held his hand out over the flame, feeling the heat swirling past his fingers. Something sparked in his mind – fear? – along with a flash of burning heat and a memory of searing pain that set his shoulder injury twinging. Kuroo flinched back, rubbing at his hand.

 

“There’s two of us.” Kenma watched the gesture with narrowed eyes.

 

“Oh.” Kuroo glanced between Kenma and the candle. This had already been the longest conversation they had had since arriving at the flat. Kenma had to be feeling the strain as much as he was. “So we’ll have to share?”

 

Kenma nodded. “We could sit in the living room.”

 

Kuroo agreed. While he carried the candle through, guarding the flame with one hand and watching for Altair as he walked, Kenma returned to his room. When he reappeared he had his laptop under one hand and a bag of Cheetos in the other.

 

“I have to work.” He dropped down onto the couch pushing himself as far into the corner – as far away from Kuroo – as possible.

 

“You have a job?” The surprise in Kuroo’s voice earned him a frown.

 

“I do.” Kenma opened the laptop, blocking Kuroo’s face with the screen.

 

“What do you do?” Kuroo asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

 

“Journalism. Freelance.” Kenma answered curtly.

 

“Oh. What kind?”

 

“I have a lot to get on with.” Kenma tilted the screen down so he could look Kuroo in the eyes. “So if you don’t mind…?”

 

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Kurro doubted his apology was heard as Kenma returned his attention to the laptop.

 

He glanced around the living room, watching the shadows dance across the walls. He listened to the rain which drummed against the window which mixed in with the rhythmic tapping of Kenma’s fingers against his keyboard. He clicked his tongue a couple times. He whistled. He started tapping out a tune on his knee.

 

He looked across to see Kenma glaring at him.

 

Kuroo raised his hands defensively. “What?!”

 

Kenma shut his laptop with a sigh. “If you’re bored then go to bed.”

 

“Are you kidding? It’s way too early.”

 

Kenma wrinkled his nose. “You’re distracting me.”

 

“I’m not doing anything!” Kuroo replied indignantly. Kenma shook his head at him, climbing to his feet. “Where are you going?” Kuroo called after him.

 

“I’m getting my PSP.” He paused in the doorway. “You can watch me play, if you like.”

 

“Watch you?”

 

“You usually enjoy watching. You used to, I mean. Familiar activities are supposed to help your memory, aren’t they?”

 

Kuroo tilted his head to one side. “Okay.” It wasn’t as though he had anything better to do. He stretched his legs out across the couch until his spine cracked. When Kenma returned he raised an eyebrow, before nudging Kuroo’s side with his knee.

 

“Move over.”

 

Kuroo obliged, shifting over until there was enough room for Kenma to lie alongside him on the narrow couch.

 

“I’ll fall off.” Kenma sat down. Kuroo shifted further, but still the only way Kenma could stop himself from falling was by pressing into Kuroo’s side, head resting in the nook of his arm. It felt only natural for Kuroo to cup Kenma in his arm as extra protection against falling, but all the same he thought it better to ask.

 

“Is this okay?”

 

“It’s how we usually sit.” Kenma paused, raising his head a little to take the weight off Kuroo’s shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

 

“No! No, I was just checking with you.” Kuroo pressed himself snugly into the couch, as Kenma let his head fall back onto Kuroo’s shoulder. The sudden loss of personal space was… strange. But not as strange as it should have been. Far from unpleasant, though, and certainly work the crick in his neck he could already feel twinging. He tried to push all thoughts of their previous conversations from his mind as he felt Kenma’s warmth seeping into his side. Now was _not_ a good time to think about the G word, not when he was in a perfect position to notice the gentle arch of Kenma’s neck, the curve of his collarbone, the slender slope of his figure nestled against his. They had barely looked at each other in a week, and now, so close to his mysterious flatmate, Kuroo was… observing. Kenma was, objectively, alluring. Kuroo could admit that much to himself. But just because he could see the attraction didn’t mean he _was_ attracted to him. He was allowing this much contact because it could trigger his memories. Not because he was… kinda enjoying it. That definitely wasn’t the reason.

 

Kuroo frowned, closing his eyes and shutting out the flickering candlelight. He couldn’t keep running through everything Kenma had told him over and over in his mind. It would drive him insane. He breathed out sharply and opened his eyes. No more reflection, no more panic. He would enjoy the moment without thinking about anything other than the memories the activity could bring back.  

 

As Kenma booted up his game, something heavy landed on Kuroo’s stomach.

 

“Ouch! Claws!” he yelped.

 

“Hello,” Kenma whispered, scratching Altair’s ears while the opening titles to the game blared from the screen. Kuroo winced as the cat settled himself in the nook created by their bodies, even more so when he stuck his claws once more into Kuroo’s side.

 

“So what game is this?” Kuroo asked once they were all settled.

 

“Just watch. You’ll pick it up.” Kenma’s expression softened under the light of the screen. The corner of Kuroo’s mouth lifted as he watched the focus with which Kenma played, fingers darting between the buttons with impressive dexterity as his avatar dodged and parried the attacks of a fire-breathing dragon.

 

Kuroo lost track of the time the three of them spent curled up together on the couch. When the lights eventually flickered back on and the television resumed its blaring, Kuroo fumbled for the remote and switched it off without a word.

 

As the hours passed Kenma’s reactions slowed until his avatar could no longer last a single round. When he died for the seventh time in a row, missing an easy opening because of the heavy yawn escaping him, Kuroo nudged Kenma’s shoulder. “Bedtime?”

 

“Yeah.” Kenma turned off the game and rubbed his eyes.

 

Kuroo helped him to his feet, gently tipping Altair from his lap and onto the couch. He stopped to blow the candle out before leading Kenma to his room. Maybe some firefighter instincts had survived the memory loss after all.

 

“Right.” Kuroo stopped at Kenma’s door. Kenma swayed a little on his feet, eyes open but mind fast asleep. He might as well have been sleepwalking. “Goodnight, then.”

 

“Night, Kuroo.” Kenma smiled faintly, and Kuroo’s eyes widened. A real smile from Kenma. It wasn’t a sight he was accustomed to at all, and it brought a strange feeling to Kuroo’s stomach, as though a dozen tiny matches were licking at the underside of it.

 

He was too busy grinning at the sight, too busy losing himself in the muddle of excitement and confusion to notice the hand had bunched up in his shirt until it pulled him down.

 

The first thing he noticed about Kenma’s lips was how small they felt against his own, the awkward angle Kenma had to pull his head down at to reach. They tasted sweet and cool against Kuroo’s mouth, and for a split second Kuroo’s eyes shut as his mouth opened instinctively in accommodation.

 

But only for a second.

 

He pushed Kenma away, hard, panic rising thick and hot in his veins, and blinked the haze from his eyes in time to catch the look of horror spreading over Kenma’s face. The dreamy glaze had vanished from his eyes like water evaporating in the sun.

 

“I – shit – sorry – I don’t know what I was thinking-”

 

“What the hell?” Kuroo wanted to shout, wanted to be angry, but the worst he could manage was limp panic. “What the hell?!”

 

“I…I… f-forgot.” Kenma’s eyes were wide, his voice horse.

 

“Forgot? Forgot what?!”

 

“That you were… That we were… Oh, shit…”

 

“That we were what?! Not dating?!” The fire arrived in Kuroo’s words at last. Kenma looked at the floor while a roll of thunder echoed outside. He nodded.

 

Kuroo raised his hands until they covered his face. “Kenma, we’re not… we can’t have been… I’m not… I’m not like that, can’t you understand?!”

 

Kenma raised his head. His eyes flashed, and Kuroo was tempted to take a step back. “No,” he spat, “I can’t.” 

 

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

 

Kuroo’s question was answered again when Kenma grabbed Kuroo once more and pulled him in. This time the kiss was rougher, lips crashing together, mouths open, and Kuroo couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped.

 

Kenma released him, glaring. “Now don’t you dare tell me,” he continued, voice shaking, “that you didn’t feel something. You don’t have the right to – to – all this time. Everything we had. Don’t you _dare_ tell me that it wasn’t real, that we weren’t real. You have no fucking right, not to make me feel the way I do and then just…” Kenma’s voice cracked and he drew his arms up around his head in panic, his shoulders shaking.

 

“I… I…” Kuroo stammered, blood draining from his face. “Shit, please don’t do that, Kenma, I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

Kenma threw his arms down to his sides where they continued to shake, his hands balled into fists. “Yes you fucking _did_. You’re doing the classic closet case act, all you need is a fucking _No Homo_ shirt! You – You’re a _coward_. A coward in denial.”

 

Kuroo swayed on the spot, shaking his head. “I’m not in denial. I’m _not_ … I’m straight. I like _girls_.”

 

“Heterosexuality and homosexuality aren’t the only two fucking options.” Kenma snapped. With that, he turned and stalked into his room, slamming the door behind him.

 

Kuroo was left to the dark corridor and the distant sound of rain.   

 

***

 

Suga shouldn’t have been surprised when he woke to find himself in Daichi’s arms. Waking up to an awkward situation involving Daichi had become the norm, and at this point he would have been more surprised had the night passed without incident.

 

Despite the potential for embarrassment, Suga didn’t move. Daichi was still fast asleep. As wrong as he knew it was, he was too warm, too comfortable in Daichi’s arms to make himself move. Outside he could hear the beginning of the dawn chorus as sunlight poured down upon them, gently erasing the puddles left by the storm and spilling in through the window. The room filled with light and warmth and when Suga’s eyes flicked upwards he found Daichi’s profile outlined in yellow and gold.  He imagined what it would be like to wake up like this every morning – but instead of shrinking away from each other as soon as they stirred they would cuddle together for a while in the warmth of the morning sun, pressing lazy kisses across each other’s skin, interlocking fingers and resting foreheads together with drowsy smiles.

 

But that could never happen.

 

He was going to lose Daichi.

 

The muscles in Suga’s chest suddenly contracted and his breaths became shallow and panicked as he felt his mind spinning from the lack of oxygen.

  

“Suga? Suga!” Daichi jerked into action, woken by Suga’s movements. He caught Suga by the shoulders and held him down until the shaking subsided, repeating his name over and over in a trembling voice even after his breathing had returned to normal.

 

“I – I’m sorry, Daichi, I woke you up,” Suga gasped as soon as he had the breath to speak. He pushed himself into a sitting position, groaning as the world spun around him.

 

“What?! Are you crazy? Don’t apologise, you were – you were having a fit or something, I don’t know! Let me find Asahi.”

 

“No!” Suga grabbed Daichi’s arm before he could get up. “I’m fine. You don’t need to do anything.”

 

Daichi turned his gaze towards Suga, who supressed the urge to shrink back. Daichi was _angry_.

 

“Don’t,” he whispered, “Don’t do that. I can respect that there’s something you’re hiding, something that’s causing… whatever _this_ is, but don’t act as though there’s nothing wrong. Keep it a secret if you must but don’t lie to me.”

 

Suga glanced up at Daichi before giggling weakly. “Is that the face you use when you lecture your naughty students?”

 

“Maybe.” The corner of Daichi’s mouth twitched upwards.

 

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Suga ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have… There’s… There’s something I have to tell you about.” He clasped his hands together in his lap.

 

“What?” Daichi placed his hands on Suga’s.

 

Suga opened his mouth, but his reply never reached Daichi’s ears. The fire alarm screamed into life, accompanied by a distinct burning smell.

 

“Jesus Christ!” Suga leapt from the bed. A clattering noise from behind told him that Daichi was grabbing his crutches.

 

“NISHINOYA YUU, IF MY KITCHEN IS ON FIRE-!” Suga sprinted into the corridor and collided with the supposed culprit at the top of the stairs.

 

“It’s not me! It’s not!” Noya hollered. His hair was a mess and he was wearing one of Asahi’s shirts, which reached past his knees. It was evident that he had only just rolled out of bed.

 

“Then who-?” Suga didn’t stop to finish the thought.

 

He dived down the stairs, slipping on the last step, and barged into the kitchen.

 

Asahi stood amidst a mess of flour and batter, wafting at the fire alarm with a newspaper and a panicked expression. Suga grabbed a chair and pulled it over, climbing up to cover the sensor with his hands. A moment later, the kitchen fell silent.

 

“Asahi,” Suga began through gritted teeth. “Care to explain?”

 

“Uh… Pancakes?”

 

“You’re supposed to be the responsible one!” Suga howled as Noya burst into the room.

 

“Alright! Breakfast!” Noya beamed. If the heavy smell of burning put him off, he didn’t let it show.  

 

Asahi shovelled a blackened pancake onto a plate and handed it to him. “Sorry, Suga. Your cooker is deceptive. Nice pyjamas.”

 

Suga shook his head. “I give up. You two are made for each other. When you get married no building will ever be safe again. You’ll have the fire station on speed dial.”

 

“We already do.” Noya rolled up a charred pancake and shoved it all into his mouth in one go. “Sabane kneeds ta wak Tanaha,” Noya continued, spraying crumbs everywhere.

 

Asahi translated, “He said someone needs to wake Tanaka.” 

 

“Tanaka slept through that?!”

 

“He’s awake now!” Daichi’s voice called through from the living room. “I sat on him by accident.”

 

Tanaka appeared at the doorway. “Daichi has a beautiful ass. I know because I woke up with it on my face. Hey, pancakes!”

 

“That’s a good thing to wake up to,” Noya said as he licked sugar from his fingers. “Better than, you know, a fire alarm.”

 

“You’re not letting that go any time soon, are you?” Asahi groaned.

 

“Nope.” Noya beamed.

 

With pancake-related shenanigans providing distraction, Suga slipped through to the living room where Daichi was raising his leg on the coffee table.

 

“Oh, hey.” Daichi smiled. “So what were you going to tell me about?”

 

Suga sat down beside him, hearing a smashing sound from the kitchen followed by excited but unintelligible shouting. He cleared his throat.

 

“As I was saying-”

 

Daichi’s mobile started ringing. “Oh, crap, I think it’s important. Do you mind?”

 

“No, no.” Suga tucked his knees up under his chin and rested his head against the back of the couch while Daichi fished his phone out of his pocket.

 

“Hello? Iwaizumi?”

 

Suga tuned out, staring into space. Space which just happened to be occupied by Daichi.

 

“Right,” He hung up. “I need to get back home. But first, what’s wrong?”

 

Suga wasn’t even surprised when they were interrupted a third time. The universe was working against them.

 

Tanaka stood in the doorway. Golden syrup was dripping from his head.

 

“Asahi says you need to get ready, we have to set off early if he’s going to drop me and Daichi off before going to work.”

 

Suga glanced up at the clock on the wall. “God, he’s right. I need to get dressed!” Suga jumped from the couch and dashed out.

 

“Aw! Does this mean we’re saying goodbye to the shrimp pyjamas?!” Daichi shouted after him with a laugh.

 

It took a lot of chivvying, panicking, and a quick rinse in the sink for Tanaka’s head, but they were soon fully dressed, somewhat presentable and standing in front of the car.

 

“Has anyone forgotten anything?” Asahi asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

 

“Actually, yes.” Suga turned to Daichi. Nobody expected the karate chop to the stomach which followed.

 

“Ow! Suga, what was that for?!”

 

“Your phone,” Suga replied sweetly.

 

“What about it?”

 

“You’ve had it on you all this time. Which means that when we were locked in that closet together, we could have phoned for help at any moment.” Suga struck again, and Daichi bent over, winded. Hauling a pair of crutches around in either arm left him completely defenceless.

 

“Suga! What did we say about attacking invalids?!” He protested as he tried to back away.

 

“Children! Get in the car, we’re going to be late!”

 

“Yeah, come on, Asahi’s stressing out!”

 

“Don’t think this is over.” Suga nudged his shoulder before sliding into the back. Daichi grinned and shook his head before joining Asahi in the front.

 

 At long last, they set off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who, in answer to the question "where do you think i'm going with this" guessed something like "they wake up cuddling together" gold star!!!!! y'all know your bed share trope!!!!!  
> To everyone who guessed "suga is sick/has cancer/is going to die" : WHO HURT YOU?   
> It's almost as if y'all don't trust me.


	17. The One with Kenma's Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma didn't understand why anyone in their right mind would come to him of all people for advice. His life was a shitshow.  
> Yet, here Hinata was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help I did smth dumb with the paragraph spacing???

Nobody who hadn’t seen it for themselves would have believed that the sky had been thunderously black and the streets soaked by downpour mere hours beforehand. Daichi was tempted to stay where Asahi had dropped him off and watch the sun as it rose higher and peered down at him over the roofs of the tenement blocks high above. The world felt fresh and new, and so did Daichi. At least, he did in the emotional sense. Physically… well, he had slept in his clothes after all. On the upside, he could still smell Suga on them, the sweet blend of tea and mint, and perhaps a hint of vanilla.

But he didn’t have time to stand there all day; Iwaizumi’s phone call had not been a social one.

“So why do you want to talk?” he asked as he entered Iwaizumi’s flat. It was exactly the same as his own apartment in layout except reversed, as if it were a mirror reflection. The backwards floor plan never failed to give Daichi a headache when he visited. The scented candles Oikawa burned at a quantity that would have given Kuroo heart palpitations didn’t help. But physical layout was where the similarity between the two apartments ended; Daichi was, by nature, tidy, and had no love of clutter. The space shared by Oikawa and Iwaizumi, on the other hand, would be described by even the kindest observers as a bombsite. Every surface was covered in wrappers, ticket stubs, stickers, posters, laundry, and, in one case, banana peel. Although it had never been confirmed, Daichi strongly suspected that none of the above had anything to do with Iwaizumi. When talking about his flatmate, Iwaizumi always had the air of a victim of Stockholm syndrome – one fully aware of his situation and resigned to his fate. Iwaizumi pretended that he put up with Oikawa’s mannerisms and antics, pretended to tolerate Oikawa’s mess and misbehaviour only because he had to. It took close observation to see that Iwaizumi actually liked Oikawa. But to see that Oikawa liked Iwaizumi back required no more than a pair of eyes.

Daichi nudged a cuddly toy Godzilla out of the way before taking a seat on the couch.

“Oikawa hasn’t spoken to me in a week.” Iwaizumi sat before him, his hands clasped together with his elbows leaning on his knees.

“You do realise I’m not a relationship councillor, right?”Daichi replied flatly. “I mean, I’m sympathetic and everything, but have you considered that this is best sorted out between the two of you?”

“You got us into this, Sawamura, you can get us out.”

“Fair point.” Daichi leaned back in his seat, noticing that the flat smelt a lot less like scented candles and a lot more like dirty socks than it usually did. “But you’ve seen him around? In the flat?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi growled, “but he’s gone into denial mode. Big time. He won’t say a word to me, he just goes about his business as though nothing has happened. I haven’t seen him like this since we were kids. It’s like one of his sulks but worse.”

Daichi sighed. “So he won’t discuss anything to do with the, ah, incident?”

“Like I said, he won’t say a word to me.”

“And what have you said to him?”

Iwaizumi’s head snapped up. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means… Look, you know as well as I do what Oikawa is like. He doesn’t share easily, not really. His soul was laid out bare for you, and now he’s left vulnerable and afraid. You need to balance it out, stand on equal ground.”

“Bare my soul? To Oikawa?” Iwaizumi snorted. “The guy’s a psychic. You can’t hide anything from him.”

“You hid one thing pretty damn well.”

Iwaizumi froze. “I never said…” He trailed off under Daichi’s sceptical gaze.

“Cut the crap, Iwaizumi,” said Daichi sharply. “Why can’t you tell him?”

Iwaizumi bit his lip and turned his head away. “I’m… I…” He stuttered, his voice cracking. He stood suddenly and snatched a pillow from his seat, throwing it at the wall with all the force he could muster. “Because I’m afraid, goddamn it!” He sank back down into the chair as though the confession had drained all the strength from his body. “I can’t tell him. I’ve never been able to tell him. It sounds insane, I know I’ve got nothing to lose, I know he feels the same, but… I’m so terrified of messing up. Do you understand?”

Daichi regarded him with tired eyes. He thought of Suga. “I understand. Completely.”

Iwaizumi pressed the palms of his hands into his forehead. “Please. I don’t know what to do.”

Daichi frowned, deep in thought. A poster by Iwaizumi’s shoulder caught his eye – a glossy image of some famous volleyball players holding a shining trophy in the air.

“Has he still been going to volleyball practice with you?” Daichi asked as the beginnings of an idea began to form.

“Are you kidding? As if he would ever miss it. It’s the only time we can be in the same room without him trying to bolt.”

“Do you think you can arrange a practice match between our teams this weekend?”

“Yeah, probably, but…” Iwaizumi squinted at him. “Why? It’s not like you can play with a broken leg.”

“Just set it up, and make sure you’re both there.” Daichi pushed himself to his feet and picked up his crutches. “I’ll handle the rest.” Hopefully, he added silently.

Iwaizumi paled. “I hope so, Sawamura. I hope so.”

***

Hammering. What on earth was that hammering noise?

Kenma groaned and wriggled, kicking layers of blankets off. He opened his mouth and gagged when it was immediately filled with hair. How the hell was he supposed to breathe when his cat insisted on treating his face like a pillow?

He could almost describe the cat’s behaviour as clingy, yet he knew better than to use that word in relation to their fickle cat. His fickle cat. Maybe the animal had sensed something different in Kuroo’s behaviour and was comforting itself by hounding Kenma like a lost puppy as a result.

He pushed himself up, and Altair jumped off with a hiss. Kenma blinked and scowled as his sluggish brain tried to track down the source of the noise. It sounded like someone was knocking at the front door – who the hell would be doing that at such a stupidly early time? He squinted at his bedside clock. Okay, maybe ten wasn’t considered very early by most people, but those people hadn’t been living his life. With all the levels of fucked up his existence had become, a sleeping schedule gone to shit was the least of his problems.

He rolled out of bed – literally – and fell onto the floor in a tangled mess of duvets and drowsiness. Before he could drag himself into the corridor to investigate, the sound of Kuroo’s heavy tread told him he had been beaten to it. Judging by his sluggish pace, he too had only just woken.

When Kenma heard the sound of the front door opening he considered climbing back into bed. But that would involve effort. He had resigned himself to falling back to sleep on the sock-strewn floor when he heard Kuroo calling his name.

“Kenma! Door!”

Kenma groaned loudly in response.

“Kenma!” The irritation in Kuroo’s voice grew. Kenma wondered if the crabbiness was due to their argument last night or at being awoken. Probably both. “I’m an amnesiac! You need to tell me if we know this guy or if he’s just a burglar with manners!”

“I’m not a burglar!” squawked a high, familiar voice.

Kenma groaned again. “It’s only Shouyou. I’ll be out in a minute.”

It was some time before he stumbled into the kitchen. There he found Kuroo, wearing nothing but the boxers he had apparently slept in and a pout as he crunched on a bowl of Cheerios. Hinata sat at the table. He was shooting Kuroo several curious glances, eyes lingering on the raw burns still scarring his skin.

“So just to confirm, do I know you?” Kuroo asked Hinata in a voice still heavy with sleep. “Not a rhetorical question. Like I said, I have amnesia.”

“I’m, uh, a friend of Kenma’s. We don’t really know each other that well but, uh, Kenma’s told me a lot about you.”

Kuroo wrinkled his nose as though dissatisfied with Hinata’s reply. Kenma sighed, shuffling over to the cupboard and nudging Kuroo out of the way so he could fix himself a hot drink.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Kenma spooned hot chocolate powder into two mugs. He glanced at Kuroo and added a third.

“The practice was closed. Storm damage.” His eyes skated between Kuroo and Kenma. “Uh, are you guys okay? Last time I saw you…” He trailed off. “Uh, when did the amnesia happen?”

Kenma poured out the drinks as he spoke. “He was injured in a fire nearly two weeks ago and lost several years of his memory.”

“Oh,” Hinata gaped at them with wide eyes as though he was watching a reality TV show. “So he forgot the fight?!”

“We were having a fight?” Kuroo frowned.

“I wouldn’t have called it that, but yeah. We sorted it all out before you were… you know.” Kenma trailed off. He set one of the mugs down in front of Hinata and nudged Kuroo’s over to him.

“Oh!” Hinata brightened. “So you figured out you loved each other?”

Kuroo chocked on his hot chocolate, and Kenma’s stomach dropped.

“We, uh, we…” Kuroo set the mug back on the counter with a trembling hand.

Kenma’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Yeah. We sorted it out. We were happy.” Kenma looked up again, his jaw clenched. “And then you forgot me.”

Kuroo shook his head, his eyes haunted. “I… I’m sorry.” He averted his gaze as he dumped the last of his Cheerios in the bin. Kenma didn’t blame him for the sudden loss of appetite. His own hot chocolate tasted like mud in his mouth. “I’ll leave you guys to… whatever.”

Kenma nodded. Once Kuroo had stumbled from the room he took a seat beside Hinata, listening to a distant thump and string of curses as Kuroo doubtless tripped over Altair for the thousandth time.

“Something’s bothering you.” Kenma tapped his fingers against his mug while Hinata squirmed under his gaze.

“Huh? I didn’t say that! Maybe I’m just, y’know, checking up on you!”

“In the middle of a working day with no warning of your arrival.”

Hinata scrunched up his nose. “You haven’t been answering your phone.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Hinata glanced towards the kitchen door. “Yeah, um… Are you sure you’re okay? I mean – I don’t want to intrude or anything! But it’s just, uh… You’re worrying me a bit. Okay, a lot.”

Kenma followed his gaze. From the living room, the faint sound of kid’s cartoons sprang into life. Kenma winced. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he replied firmly. There was enough worry going around as it was without Hinata’s anxiety getting involved.

“Okay then, uh…” Hinata took a massive gulp from his mug which left him with a chocolate moustache. He wiped it away with the sleeve of his jacket before continuing. “Hey, did you notice the power cut last night? Crazy, huh!”

Kenma closed his eyes, frowning slightly. “Hinata. I know you’re here for a reason. Please tell me what it is.”

Hinata lowered his head onto the table with a gentle thump and a sigh. “There’s a boy. I like him.”

“Oh.” Was this a – what did people call it? A gay crisis? Kenma couldn’t handle Kuroo’s panic, let alone Hinata’s. Surely Hinata knew people better equipped to deal with this - weren’t half Hinata’s work colleges that way inclined? Any of them were bound to be more helpful than Kenma, whose track record when it came to dealing with such matters was abysmal at best. His entire relationship with Kuroo was proof of that. He coughed. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with liking another man-”

“That’s not the problem. Well. Not the main problem.” Hinata spoke into the table.

“Then what is?”

“He’s – He’s-” Hinata grunted, and an array of endings to the sentence ran through Kenma’s mind. Straight? Uninterested? Homophobic? None of these guesses came close to Hinata’s next words. “…the most annoying, arrogant, dumbass jerk I’ve ever met!”

“Oh. That’s unfortunate,” Kenma replied flatly.

“Gaah!” Hinata grabbed his head between his hands as though he were about to start pulling his own hair out. “I hate him! But I also, I don’t know, I just… Suga told me to tell him about my feelings and I thought it might work, but then I realised that if I don’t even understand my feelings, how am I going to explain them to him?!”

“So you want me to help you…” Kenma paused, thinking his words over. “…with communication?”

Hinata nodded, blissfully unaware of the fatal flaw in his plan.

“Hinata. You do realise that I am the worst possible person to consult about that?”

Hinata shook his head. “But you’re not! You write things for a living! That’s a type of communication, isn’t it?”

“Not the same.” Kenma pushed a strand of hair back behind his ear before lacing his hands together. “Can’t you just ask him out or something?”

Hinata groaned. “Is that what you did? Asked Kuroo out?”

Kenma coughed. “No. No, it wasn’t like that. Which is why I’m really not the person you should be asking for advice.”

“Why, what did you do?” Hinata sat up, curiosity burning in his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kenma replied quickly. “I’m sorry. There’s no advice I can give you. I’m not very good at this kind of thing.”

“What, dating? But you have a boyfriend!”

Kenma snorted before glancing once more in the direction of the door through which Kuroo had left. The sad truth was, he didn’t. Not anymore.

“Okay, but like, if you met a guy, and you liked him, like, like liked him, what would you do?”

Kenma scowled. “That wouldn’t happen.”

“Why not?!”

“I’m demisexual. It doesn’t work like that for me. I have to get to know someone first. Attraction comes later.”

“Okay, but-”

“Hinata, please stop,” Kenma groaned. “There’s nothing useful I can tell you. Don’t you know anyone in a functioning relationship you can ask?”

Hinata jumped to his feet. “Nishinoya! He’s engaged!”

“Then ask him.”

“Great! Thanks, Kenma!” Hinata picked up his mug and slurped down the rest of his drink. In his excitement he forgot to wipe away his new chocolate moustache. “Is there anything I can help you with in return?”

A hundred of Kenma’s problems flickered past his eyes like an unwanted film reel. He settled on a simple one.

“I’m stuck on a level of Dragon Battle. We could try to beat it together, if you like.”

Hinata beamed. “Nice!”

For once, Kenma wouldn’t mind a little noise in the flat. The tense silence was weighing on him too much.

***

“Everything in my office is soaked.” Asahi groaned as he flopped down on the kerb beside Noya. The sun may have dried the streets, but it had done nothing for the west end of the building, where a leaky roof had wreaked havoc with the help of the previous night’s storm. Suga rubbed the back of his neck where the sun’s warmth danced across his skin.

“Ditto.” He took a seat beside them. “I’m planning a funeral for my computer. May it rest in watery peace.”

“On the bright side.” Noya stretched, pushing back into an arch with his hands. “No work until they fix the damage!”

Asahi pouted. “Hey, I like my job!”

“Then think of it as an opportunity. We can work on our wedding plans!”

“And sort out our new place. We can’t keep exploiting Suga’s generosity forever.”

“Aw!” Noya leaned against Suga. “But he’s so much fun to exploit!”

“And speaking of wedding plans,” Asahi smiled. “We’re going to need your help.”

“Mine?!” Suga raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know a thing about weddings!”

“Hey. We ain’t comin’ to ya for your expertise!”

“Then for what?”

“Well, um.” Asahi climbed to his feet. He stood before Suga with a grave expression. “Suga-”

“Oh God. He’s being dramatic, Suga, don’t-”

“Shh! I’m trying to ask him, it’s a very important question!”

“Yeah, and you’re freaking him out with your serious face!”

“Guys, come on!” Suga interrupted. “I’m not freaked out, I promise. What’s the question?”

“Suga. I would like – I mean, I would be honoured if…” Asahi stammered with a reddening face.

“Gaaah!” Noya sprung to his feet to join him. “He’s trying to ask you to be his best man!”

“Noya! I was going to ask him!”

“Yeah, but I want to have lunch at some point, and you were taking forever!”

“Lunch?! We just had breakfast!”

Neither of them noticed as Suga climbed to his feet on legs that shook. He took one of their shoulders in each hand to steady himself, at which point Asahi and Noya’s bickering ground to a halt.

“Suga?” Suga, are you-?” Asahi never finished his question. Suga pulled the pair of them in, taking a shaky breath as the three of them became a tangle of tight embraces and watery eyes.

“Asahi. I would be honoured.” Suga sniffed. “The pair of you – I’m just so…” his voice trembled, and he didn’t trust himself to finish for several seconds. “…so sorry.” He finished at last with an ache in his throat.

“Sorry? Why?” Noya straightened up, an arm still slung around Suga’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I – I’d love to be your best man. More than anything. But – but I can’t!”

Asahi’s eyebrows knitted together. “Why not?”

Suga closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. “Because,” he began in a voice that shook, “I – I won’t be here!”

“What?” Asahi’s hand dropped from Suga’s shoulder. “Where are you going?”

Suga bit his lip, yet he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling. “I – I think you guys should sit down again.”

Asahi and Noya looked up at him with wide, worried eyes as they returned to their seats on the pavement. Suga brushed his hair from his face, where the wind had been playfully tugging it back and forth before his eyes for some time. He let out a heavy sigh, and the wind dropped dead. He hadn’t wanted to tell them yet. He hadn’t been ready. He had wanted to continue drifting along without worries or woes for a little longer. But he couldn’t keep it hidden anymore.

“About a week ago I received a job offer from Doctors Without Borders. I told Tadeka yesterday that I would take it.”

“Aw, a new job ain’t gonna stop you!” Noya sprang back to his feet and clapped Suga on the back. “Congrats and everything, but you ain’t escaping that easily!”

“Noya, you don’t understand.” Suga took him by the shoulder. “The job means I will be working all over the world. But I won’t be living here anymore. I leave for Mumbai in a month. Then, well, I have no idea where I’ll be after that.”

Asahi climbed slowly to his feet, thoroughly living up to his old-man image. “You want this a lot, don’t you, Suga?” His smile was warm but his eyes were pained.

“I – I do.”

Asahi pulled him into a warm hug. “Then I support your decision. Even though I’ll miss you.”

“Hey, I will too!” Noya barrelled into the hug, crushing Suga’s ribcage with the force of his embrace.

“Ah guys, don’t start getting all soppy. I’m not leaving yet,” said Suga, but despite his words he squeezed them in return. “And I’m so sorry about the wedding.”

“Oh really?” Noya pulled back with an impish grin. “One month until you leave, you say? Whadya think, Asahi, can we manage it?”

“Manage what?” Suga asked with a frown. “Noya, that’s your scheming face. The let’s-lock-Suga-in-a-closet kind of scheming face. Don’t scheme, Noya.”

“Yes,” Asahi answered as though Suga hadn’t spoken. “We can manage it.”

“Manage what?!”

“Suga, there is no way on God’s green earth we are gonna let you vanish off without forcing you into a tux so you can stand beside us while we say our vows.” Noya smirked. “You are coming to our wedding, no matter what. We are going to be married before your month is up, or we’re going to die trying!”

Asahi nodded. “I’d really rather not die, if it’s all the same to you guys. But we can do it, I’m sure.”

“Jesus Christ. You’re both nuts.” Suga put a hand to his head. “Do you know how much there is to sort out? There’s the invitations, the venue, the outfits, the cake…”

“And he says he doesn’t know anything about weddings!” Noya grinned. “We can do it if we work together. You’ll see. It’ll be worth it to have you there, Suga.”

Suga shook his head, a smile spreading over his face. “How many times are you guys going to make me cry today?!”

“No time for crying! We have a wedding to plan! To the Batmobile!”

Noya tore off in the direction of Asahi’s car while Asahi and Suga followed, side by side.

“You haven’t told Daichi yet, have you?” Asahi asked quietly. The breeze returned, sending a cool gust of air across Suga’s skin. He shivered.

“Huh? No, I… I haven’t gotten around to it.” Suga bit his lip, his hands clenching at the thought of the conversation ahead of him. It seemed unfair that the prospect of telling Daichi pained him just as much as telling Asahi and Noya. He had known the latter two far longer, after all. But Daichi was, well…

Daichi was special.

The three of them were going to be the hardest thing about leaving, and his heart broke every time he thought of saying goodbye. But, as much as he loved his life, he had made his choice. There were people out there who needed him. How could he say no?

Asahi smiled at him, a smile a little too sad and a little too knowing. “You’re going to miss Daichi, aren’t you?”

“Well, I – Of course I will, he’s a friend. A good one. Hey – was that a snort?!”

“No, no, I was clearing my throat.” Asahi looked ahead to the car which Noya had beaten them to by some distance. He chuckled as Noya bounced up and down impatiently, gesturing for him to unlock the door. “I understand how you feel. If there’s anything you need to talk about…”

“Asahi, even I don’t understand how I feel.” Suga shook his head in exasperation. “What are you talking about?!”

“I’m sure you’ll work it out.” If Suga hadn’t known better he would have described Asahi’s expression as a smirk.

Suga shook his head again. His friends were the strangest people, and he would never understand them completely, but that only made him love them more.

He thought again of how he was to lose them, and the tight knot that had formed in his chest clenched.

One month. That was a long time, time enough to prepare.

When the time to leave came, he would be ready. He would have to be.

Not matter how much it hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.
> 
> Coming up next week: underwear in the sink


	18. The One With the Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Daichi had a penny for every time someone barged into his flat uninvited he might have enough money to change his locks.

Daichi returned from the shops to find Kuroo face down on his couch.

 

He pulled his rucksack from his shoulders (carrying hand-held shopping bags _and_ crutches was not an option) and dropped it on the floor with a thump. It drew no response.

 

Daichi sighed. “Hello, friend who _does not live here_. Please, make yourself at home. Let yourself in, why don’t you?” He paused, frowning. “Kuroo, how did you remember where I live?”

 

Kuroo’s words were lost to the pillows his face was shoved between.

 

“Fine, whatever. Give me five minutes.” Daichi hobbled through to the kitchen, leaving Kuroo to his mood. There wasn’t much he could do with Kuroo when he got like this except wait it out and hope that he could be persuaded to talk about it. When Daichi returned a few minutes later and Kuroo hadn’t moved, Daichi nudged the back of his pillow-swaddled head with a crutch.

 

“You complain about that mess you call hair and yet you continue to lie like that,” Daichi snorted. “Come on, move over. I need to sit.” 

 

Kuroo pushed himself upright with a groan before flopping down on one side of the couch as though he were about to melt into it.

 

“I made a hot chocolate for you, but I can’t carry it with crutches so I abandoned it in the kitchen.”

 

“Why the hell does everyone keep making me hot chocolate?!” Kuroo grumbled as he shook his hair from his eyes. “You’re all obsessed.”

 

“We use it as a sedative if you seem stressed. It calms you down really well.”

 

“A sedative? What am I, a wild animal?” Kuroo scowled.

 

“Exactly. Anyway, how _did_ you find my flat? Did Kenma walk you over?”

 

Kuroo’s eyes dropped to the floor and his scowl deepened. “No.”

 

“Then how-?”

 

“I don’t know. I just – walked myself? It seemed like the right way to go. And the key in my pocket fitted, so I let myself in.”

 

“Kuroo.” Daichi sat up, his eyes wide. “Do you realise what this is?! Your memory is returning! It has to be!”

 

“Tch.” Kuroo folded his arms.

 

“What’s wrong?” Daichi frowned. “I thought you’d be happier.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m not.”

 

Daichi bit his lip as his concern grew. The anger in Kuroo’s voice was setting him on edge. “Care to explain?”

 

“You and Kenma. Both of you, whenever you look at me – it’s not me you’re seeing. It’s someone else entirely. You don’t want my memories back, you want _him_ back. And I’m not him.”

 

“What? Kuroo, I don’t-”

 

“He said he loved me!” Kuroo snapped. For a moment his expression clouded over as though his own words had surprised him. Then his anger broke and he looked up at Daichi with haunted eyes.

 

“Oh, I see,” Daichi said with a sigh of relief. “This is about _Kenma_.”

 

Kuroo made a strangled noise. “You knew all about this – this – Kenma business! You never said anything about it!”

 

“Well, I assumed he would have discussed it with you.” Daichi paused. “Actually, knowing Kenma, probably not the _best_ assumption to make…”

 

Kuroo sent him a flat look. “It isn’t _all_ about Kenma.”

 

“Yeah, _sure_ it isn’t.”

 

Kuroo put his head in his hands. “Fine! Fine, maybe it is, but – but – love?! From what he told me before – I – I never thought it was _real_ , let alone this serious!”

 

Daichi studied Kuroo for a moment, taking in the panic in his eyes, before cursing himself. If he had known the problems Kuroo and Kenma were having were this serious… Why hadn’t Kenma said anything?! Oh, right. Because he was Kenma, and Kenma never shared anything, least of all his problems. Daichi groaned. He should have kept a closer eye on the pair of them. At least now he understood the situation he could try to help.

 

“Why would he lie to you, Kuroo? Why would I? Is it really that hard to believe?”   

 

“That’s the point I’m trying to _make_.” Kuroo snapped. “This isn’t my life. This isn’t me. How can I be near Kenma? He’s – he’s in love, and I’m…”

 

“…not,” Daichi finished for him.

 

Kuroo sighed. “This is a mess.” He raked a hand through his hair, tousling it up in more directions than Daichi had thought possible. 

 

Daichi shook his head. “Hot chocolate. Go. Now.”

 

Kuroo slouched off into the kitchen with a scowl, just as the door to Daichi’s flat burst open.

 

“Right. That’s it, I’m moving,” Daichi grumbled to himself. “And when I find myself a new place I’m melting every spare door key in a furnace.”

 

Kenma appeared at the door to the living room, panting. “I can’t find Kuroo-!”

 

“Jeez, what are we, married?” Kuroo pushed past Kenma and back into the room without so much as a second glance, hot chocolate clasped in his hands. “Or is that something else you “forgot” to tell me about?”

 

“You can’t just wander off like that!” Kenma snapped. Daichi shrunk down in his seat. Why did every couple he knew insist on giving him a front row seat to their domestics?

 

“I can do what I want,” Kuroo snarled as he returned to the couch. “I may be an injured amnesiac but I’m not completely incapable. Besides, you were having your fun with shorty, I didn’t want to interrupt. ”

 

“That makes no difference, I was… I was…” Kenma closed his eyes, eyebrows pinching together. “Worried.”

 

Daichi had never been more of a third wheel in his life. “Look, guys, you’re both here now, so why don’t we just-”

 

“No,” Kuroo interrupted, stone-faced. “Look, I’m sorry – both of you – but I don’t think this is working.”

 

“What?” Kenma and Daichi spoke in one voice. They shared a worried glance before returning their attention to Kuroo.

 

“I just – I just…” Kuroo continued with a stammer. “I need something familiar, something I can ground myself with. Kenma… I’m sorry, but that’s not you.”

 

When Kenma spoke, it was in a low, panicked voice. “What are you saying?”  

 

“I don’t think we should live together.”

 

An expression twitched across Kenma’s face but was gone in a flash. Anyone who didn’t know him well would not have noticed it, let alone understood it. But Daichi knew Kenma enough to recognise heartbreak when he saw it, no matter how well hidden.

 

“I see,” Kenma answered through a mask of impassivity. “In that case, I’ll be going.” He turned away a little too quickly, and was gone before either of them could say a word.

 

Kuroo bit his lip, staring at the now-vacant doorway. It was some time before he spoke. “If you’re about to start criticising me, I don’t want to hear it.”

 

“That’s not what I was going to do,” Daichi replied quietly.

 

“Then what?”

 

“Well, I was going to ask…if you’re not living with Kenma, where _are_ you going to live?!”      

 

Kuroo smiled predatorily. “Why do you think I came _here?_ ”

 

Daichi groaned. “ _No_.”

 

“ _Yes_.”

 

“I hate you Kuroo, you know that, right?” Daichi scowled, poking Kuroo in the arm with his index finger.

 

“Yeah.” Kuroo’s smile didn’t fade, but something flickered in his eyes. “I know.”

 

***

 

Kuroo moved in the next day. 

 

He didn’t bring much – a couple boxes of odds and ends and his old guitar, all of which had to clutter up the corridor because Daichi’s place was too small for a goddamn guest room. Kuroo had, despite all attempts to persuade him otherwise, decided that Daichi’s couch was to be his home for the foreseeable future. It took mere hours to turn Daichi’s tidy little flat into a bombsite, and Daichi’s nerves were fraught. The constant guitar playing didn’t help.

 

He didn’t ask for much in life, just little things. Like not having socks scattered across the kitchen table. Or dirty dishes on the floor. Or – Oh Christ.

 

“THESE BETTER NOT BE DIRTY UNDERPANTS IN THE SINK!” Daichi roared, patience snapping at last.

 

“They’re not!” Kuroo shouted from the living room. “They’re perfectly clean!”

 

_How in the name of God…_ Daichi thought to himself. _He’s been here one day. ONE DAY._

 

It didn’t help that neither of them were working. With nothing else to do but lie around the flat, cabin fever was already setting in.

 

Daichi hobbled through to the living room, where Kuroo was sprawled on the couch with his guitar lying across him. Every few seconds he would pluck a note or two at random as he gazed blankly at the ceiling. It was a habit that set Daichi’s teeth on edge.

 

“Kuroo. Do you remember when we first met?” Daichi asked through a clenched jaw, dropping the underpants on Kuroo’s face.

 

“What? Yeah, I didn’t forget _that_ far back. It was at university. We shared a room.” Kuroo swatted the underpants away like he would a fly. They landed on the floor, creating yet another trip hazard in the obstacle course of laundry and half-eaten meals strewn across the room. Kuroo strummed a chord, oblivious, while Daichi rubbed at his temples.

 

“Do you remember when we became friends?” he continued in a strained voice.

 

“Oh.” Kuroo snorted. “Man, we didn’t get along for ages, did we? We didn’t start actually hanging out until-”

 

“-until we weren’t living together any longer.” Daichi nudged Kuroo’s legs out of the way and sat down beside him. “Can you guess why?”

 

Kuroo shrugged. “I never really thought about it.”

 

“Because,” Daichi began with all the patience he could muster, “We did _not_ make good flatmates. We were always under each other’s feet. We both had little habits that drove each other up the wall. But as soon as we stopped living together that all stopped being a problem, and we realised that we could actually be friends. Do you get what I’m saying?”

 

“Not really.” Kuroo strummed another chord, before plucking a few more notes.

 

“I’m _sayin_ g that we make good friends, Kuroo, but we _don’t_ make good roommates. And as much as I want to support you, I don’t know that you staying here is the best… plan. I mean, sleeping on my couch can’t be that fun, can it?”

 

“Ah, Daichi, you worry too much.” Kuroo smirked, eyes still on the ceiling. “We were only kids back then. We’re totally mature, responsible adults now. I’m sure we can manage.” Kuroo’s tone was light, but there was no teasing glint in his eyes to accompany it. It suddenly struck Daichi that, having removed Kenma from his life, Daichi was the only person Kuroo had left that he could actually remember.

 

“Alright.” Daichi relented. “But no more underwear on the table, okay?”

 

Kuroo responded with a quick riff and another smirk.

 

Daichi wondered if he would make it to the end of the week without committing homicide. The odds weren’t looking good.

 

When Suga, guardian angel and life-saver extraordinaire, asked to meet with him, Daichi jumped at the chance.

 

And so the next day Daichi found himself once more in the little coffee place a street over from Suga’s practice, leaning back in the same seat he had taken last time with his eyes closed in the midday sun. It felt like it had been so long since they met there to discuss Kenma’s disappearance - so much had happened in so little time. Daichi’s eyes skated over the customers and employees, enjoying the warm smell of freshly-ground coffee, before glancing at his watch for maybe the fifth time in as many minutes. Suga’s lunch break had to have started by now, which meant he would be walking through those doors in a matter of minutes. Birds would sing. The world would brighten. Daichi would probably cry internally. The usual side-effects of Suga’s presence.

 

“You look happy.” The very subject of Daichi’s wandering thoughts took a seat before him. Daichi jumped, knocking the table so hard the silverware rattled.

 

“Sneaking up on people isn’t nice, Suga. Especially if they look happy.”

 

“Dear God, what on earth made you think I was _nice_?” Suga pushed a mug of coffee towards Daichi with a smile.

 

Daichi chuckled, cupping the drink in his hands. Suga’s eyes followed him as he raised it to his mouth and took a deep gulp.

 

“You sounded a bit strained when I phoned. Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Living with Kuroo is going about as well as I expected, is all.”

 

Suga closed his eyes and shook his head. “He’s not doing himself any favours at all. If he isn’t spending time around Kenma or in his flat his memory… Well, his chances are weak enough as it is without this.”

 

“I know,” Daichi sighed. “But I can’t get through to him. It’s like he’s regressing straight back into his rebel-teenager stage.”

 

Suga snorted. “If that’s the case, then that makes you his harried father.”

 

“Oh please, no. Not parenthood.” Daichi groaned. “Not to Kuroo. He’s the ultimate problem child. Please, anyone but Kuroo.”

 

“I’ll swap you Kuroo for Noya. Fire extinguisher not included.”

 

Daichi swallowed. “I take it back.” He paused. “Although, if you’re _volunteering_ your help, there’s a chance Kuroo will listen to you. Or more chance, at least. I think he ignores everything I say by default.” 

 

“Oh,” Suga raised his eyebrows. “If you think it will help, sure. Of course I’ll talk to him.”

 

“Thanks.” Daichi rested his chin on his hand. Was he smiling too much? Probably. Could he stop? No. He was a hopeless case.

 

“I’ll come over at some point. That is, if Asahi and Noya ever let me out of their clutches.” Suga chuckled. “They’ve both gone into wedding-planning overdrive, and Asahi’s asked me to be his best man, so I’m caught up in the middle of it. You’re invited, by the way. But only because I want to see you in a suit.”

 

Daichi wasn’t sure what made him say it; perhaps the twinkle in Suga’s eyes, the laughter in his voice, or maybe just the borderline-suggestion in his words. The retort slipped out of his mouth before he could stop to think. “You couldn’t _handle_ me in a suit.”

 

The only thing that stopped him from going into meltdown there and then was the look on Suga’s face which made the fifty different levels of embarrassment all worthwhile. His eyes were blown wide and the flush spreading across his cheeks was almost a match for Daichi’s.

 

“W-Well,” Suga stammered at last, shock quickly replaced by a mischievous grin. “I suppose we’ll have to put that to the test.”

 

A hot shiver ran from the top of Daichi’s spine downwards to the base where it flooded his gut like a tsunami. That was flirting, that was _definitely_ flirting, he had flirted with Suga, and Suga was flirting back, and suddenly Daichi couldn’t breathe. 

 

Okay, be cool. He had to be cool.

   

“You bet we will.” Daichi leaned forward in his chair, maintaining eye contact despite his pounding heart.

 

Suga’s lips parted slightly, as though Daichi’s words had blown a fuse somewhere in his mind. Daichi watched the imperceptible swelling of his pupils with bated breath.  

 

“So – it’s – I mean, the – the _wedding_ ,” Suga choked out at last. “It’s the end of the month. You’ll be able to make it?”

 

“Of course. Why the sudden rush? I thought they were taking their time with the planning.”

 

“Ah,” Suga’s eyes slid off to the side, his grip on his mug tightening. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, actually.”

 

“Why?” Daichi’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing, I swear.” Suga smiled, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “Well, the thing is, Asahi and Noya are kind of working to a deadline now. They want to be married before I… before I leave.”

 

“…leave?” Daichi repeated.

 

Suga let a deep sigh slip past his lips. “I’m… I’m going away, Daichi.”

 

A strange detachment took over Daichi as Suga explained himself. He could still hear the words coming from Suga’s mouth – a job abroad, an exciting opportunity, and so on – yet he felt as though he were hearing the words from the other side of a glass wall, leaving the sound muffled and distant. Couldn’t he rewind, just by five minutes or so, and go back to the flirting? Because this was… This was…

 

“…Daichi?” Suga’s tight smile faltered as he watched Daichi’s expression, waiting for a reaction. He reached out a hand and placed it over Daichi’s. Daichi’s brain registered the heat of Suga’s skin against his own and suddenly the glass shattered as though a bullet had torn through it.

 

“That’s…” Daichi swallowed back the choking tar-like sensation in his throat, yet his voice still sounded as though it weren’t his. “That’s great, Suga. I’m really happy for you, congratulations.”

 

Suga’s eyes flickered, and even Daichi knew his words were less than convincing.

 

“I – I’m sorry,” he began again. “I’m going to miss you, Suga.”

 

“Apologise all you want. You’re still helping us plan the wedding.” The twinkle returned to Suga’s eyes. Daichi forced a laugh from his body, moving his hands out of sight under the table where Suga couldn’t see them shake. He cleared his throat, but before he could speak Suga’s phone began vibrating.

 

“Oh, sorry, do you mind if I-”

 

“No, not at all.”

 

Suga answered, and excited noises buzzed from the phone. Judging from the expression on Suga’s face, it was nothing good. He ended the call with a frown.

 

“I’m sorry Daichi, I’m needed back at the practice. I’ll see you soon, though?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Daichi stammered as Suga downed the rest of his tea in one gulp. “Actually, the team has a practice match on Saturday if you fancy coming along. I’m not sure if Kuroo or Kenma will show.”

 

“Sounds good, but I don’t think it’ll be much of a competition with one of the players on crutches.” Suga picked up his bag, smirking.

 

“Funny. I’ll be there _watching_. And fixing my neighbour’s mess of a relationship if I get the chance, but if it all goes sideways a human shield could come in handy.”

 

“Aw, is that all I am to you?” Suga pulled his wallet from his bag, but Daichi waved it away.

 

“Absolutely,” Daichi returned with a quirk of his lips.

 

Suga pushed the chair in and headed for the door, still pulling on his coat, but not in too much of a hurry to give Daichi’s shoulder a little pat as he passed. Suga’s expression was light, but maybe a little glazed, as though he had already pushed from his mind all that lay ahead.

 

If Suga felt light then Daichi was the opposite, because forcing his body to pick itself up and drag his heavy form back home was near impossible.                     

 

Kuroo swore loudly when he saw Daichi standing in the doorway. It was a testament to exactly how bad Daichi looked. 

 

“Holy shit! Did your fish die? Because I swear to God that wasn’t me. Probably. I mean, I wasn’t _trying_ to pour yogurt in the tank. It just sort of happened.”

 

Daichi shook his head. Kuroo jumped to his feet.

 

“Okay, shit, okay, it’s not the fish. It’s worse than the fish. It’s – it’s – my cat? No, wait, you hate my cat. Dammit, Daichi, work with me here!”

 

Daichi shook his head. “I’m…” He swallowed. “I’m going to bed.”

 

“What?! At three in the afternoon? I mean, I can’t judge, I was asleep until about three seconds ago, but-” The rest of his words were cut off when Daichi closed the bedroom door in his face.

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on steadying his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. For the love of God, when had breathing become so hard?

 

“You’re being so unfair right now,” came Kuroo’s muffled voice from the other side of the door. “You can’t shut me out like this. Well, I mean, literally you can, and have, but speaking emotionally… well, once again, technically you can but, like, that’s not a healthy way of dealing with…uh, your…dead grandmother? Jesus, will you please tell me what’s going on because, as brilliant a façade as I am putting on, you’re kinda freaking me out right now. A lot.” 

 

His words hung in the air for several seconds more while Daichi continued to breathe, in and out, in and out.

 

“Well.” There was a scuffling noise which sounded suspiciously like Kuroo was taking a seat on the floor. “You can’t stay in there forever and I’m not moving.”

 

Daichi sighed. With great difficulty he lowered himself to the floor, leaning his back against the door. He suspected that Kuroo was in the exact same position on the other side, as though it were some ridiculous rendition of the sad verse in _Do You Want to Build a Snowman_.

 

A few deep breaths later Daichi felt about ready to speak. “What was that about yogurt in the fish tank?”

 

He heard a snort. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Daichi let out a weak giggle, but half way through his voice cracked into something pathetically close to a whimper. He clamped his hand over his mouth, eyes screwed shut.

 

“Daichi? Daichi, _shit_. I’m – I’m calling someone, I’m calling Suga…”

 

“No!” Daichi yelped. He rolled to the side and pulled the door open. Kuroo flopped backwards onto the carpet, phone landing on the carpet with a thud. “You absolutely can’t call Suga.”

 

“Suga will help with whatever this is, because Jesus, Daichi, I’m trying, but…” He wriggled, trying to reach for the discarded phone. Daichi kicked it out of reach with his uninjured leg. Kuroo opened his mouth, but before he could speak the words tumbled from Daichi’s mouth at last.

 

“He’s _leaving_.”

 

“What?” Kuroo stopped wriggling. His fringe had tumbled backwards so for once Daichi could see both his eyes in addition to a fair bit of forehead. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

 

“Suga. He’s leaving. He’s been offered a new job somewhere, so at the end of the month…” Daichi cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, mostly because he didn’t trust himself to look at Kuroo.

 

“Shit,” Kuroo whispered.

 

Daichi shook his head. It was a long time before Kuroo spoke again.

 

“You love him, don’t you?”

 

The question was enough to make Daichi open his eyes. He looked down at Kuroo, who was still splayed across the floor and studying him with an expression far too serious for the ridiculous position he was lying in.

 

“You must,” he continued, pushing himself upright. “It’s the only explanation. I mean, Jesus, look at you.”

 

“Thanks a lot, Kuroo.”

 

“I’m serious. I’ve never seen you this messed up before. Jesus. I had no idea you were in so deep.”

 

Daichi bit his lip, staring down at the carpet. “Neither did I.” He closed his eyes. “ _Shit_.”

 

“Oh, man.” Kuroo sighed, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Daichi’s. “Are you going to tell him?”

 

Daichi swallowed. “How can I? How can I do that to him?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Well, so what if I do… If I do l-love him?” Daichi stammered. Saying the words for himself sent a wave of pain churning through his body, and he bent forwards with a grimace. “It doesn’t change anything. He’s leaving. Anything I say now will only make it worse.”

 

“What, so you’re just going to pretend like it’s nothing?” Kuroo straightened, frowning. “That’s so unfair to him.” Kuroo leaned over to retrieve his phone.

 

“You’re in no place to lecture me about fairness, Kuroo.” Daichi folded his arms, but Kuroo’s retort never came. Kuroo was too busy tapping the phone screen, swearing under his breath.

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

“Uh, shit, Daichi, I think I might have hit the call button by accident.”

 

“What?”

 

“That, uh, whole conversation we just had…” Kuroo held out the phone so Daichi could see the information scrolling across the screen. _Call ended, 15:07_. “Suga _might_ have heard it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Whoops.))
> 
> I hope y'all kept a hold of your daisuga trope bingo cards so you can score off the "dadchi joke" square. what is originality
> 
> Coming up next week: return of the iwaoi (dun dun dun)


	19. The One Where Oikawa Confesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cornering Oikawa is a dangerous business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled, "IWAIZUMI, NO"

 “I’m going to throw up.”

 

“Wow, Daichi, I’m sure the sight of you vomiting all over the gym floor will really impress Suga.”

 

Daichi yanked Kuroo down by the ear, forcing him to sit beside him on the bench. Balls bounced back and forth across the net as the two teams warmed up. Oikawa and Iwaizumi had yet to show, and Daichi doubted that Kenma was coming.  “This is your fault.”   

 

“Me?! I did nothing!” Kuroo had the cheek to look indignant.

 

“You may or may not have broadcast my declaration of love to the man I was declaring my love to _and you’re not even sure if he heard it or not_. This is entirely your fault, which is why you’re here to be my human shield in case my other human shield serves a ball at my head for the mess I’ve gotten us both into.”

 

“Nah, he won’t do that. Suga’s more the revenge-is-a-dish-best-served-cold kind of guy.”

 

“How comforting. Anyway, _that_ problem aside, there’s the added bonus of Oikawa and Iwaizumi. The last time we were all together in one room two relationships were pretty much torpedoed.” Daichi glanced towards the door, nerves spiking.

 

Kuroo frowned. “Do I know them?”

 

“Yeah, they live next door. We have matches with their team quite often.”

 

“Oh, is one of them that frowny guy? I think I’ve seen him around the building.”

 

“Yep, that’s Iwaizumi.”

 

A hand landed heavily on Daichi’s shoulder, causing a yelp he wasn’t proud of.

 

“My ears are burning.” Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “Oikawa’s going to arrive any second. I hope you know what you’re doing, Sawamura.”  The words hadn’t left his mouth before Oikawa appeared at the doorway. He strode in, chin raised, eyes scouring the hall. His gaze lingered on the trio, eyes skating over Iwaizumi, before turning and heading for the ball cart.

 

“Well, he’s here.” Daichi watched as Oikawa served the ball over the net. It slammed down on the other side before he could even blink. “That’s a start.”

 

“Oikawa wouldn’t even miss practice if the Martians were invading,” Iwaizumi sighed. “I’m not even joking. He told me so himself.” Kuroo snorted, turning it into a cough when Iwaizumi shot him a glare. “So what’s the plan?” Iwaizumi asked, turning his attention back to Daichi.

 

Daichi shrugged. “You play a match together.”

 

“What?” Iwaizumi’s eyes widened. “That can’t be it.”

 

“Just play. We can talk more after.” A whistle punctuated Daichi’s words as the teams gathered up. He grinned meekly in the face of the daggers Iwaizumi was shooting at him. “It’ll help.”

 

“Not freakin’ likely.” Iwaizumi grumbled, but nonetheless he turned and jogged over to join his team in their huddle. Oikawa, midway through his pre-game talk, behaved as though he hadn’t seen him. It was the hard-set line of his mouth that gave him away.

 

Kuroo nudged Daichi sharply in the side.

 

“What-?” The question died in Daichi’s mouth when he saw Suga. He waved at the pair before jogging over to speak with the coach.

 

“Smiling and waving. That’s normal, right?” Kuroo grinned. “I guess we got lucky.”

   

“Hmm.” Daichi frowned. There was something a little forced in Suga’s movements as he made his way over, but the smile he wore was enough to banish his suspicions.

 

“Hey guys. Kuroo, I didn’t know you were coming. Are your injuries really healed enough for volleyball?”

 

“Yes,” Kuroo replied through gritted teeth. “No need to baby me.”

 

“Sorry.” Suga chuckled. “Doctor Mode took over.”

 

Another whistle blew.

 

“Oh, by the way, Kuroo, did you try to call me yesterday?” Suga turned to Kuroo as he climbed to his feet.

 

“Uh.” Kuroo froze. “Yes?”

 

“Oh, well I guess one of our phones isn’t working because I couldn’t hear anything.” Suga smiled. “Was it anything important?”

 

“No, nothing!” Kuroo replied quickly, shoulders slouching in relief. “I mean, I forgot. Whatever it was, it was unimportant.”

 

“Alright.” Suga turned and headed for the court, gesturing for Kuroo to follow. As he walked away Kuroo turned and shot Daichi a thumbs-up.

 

The match began with Oikawa’s serve. Daichi couldn’t deny feeling restless as he watched his team struggle to receive it. He wanted to be up there with them.

 

He was ashamed to admit that his mind began to wander as the match progressed. As strong a setter as Suga was, he wasn’t a match for Oikawa. On any other day, Oikawa would have gloated – loudly – about this, but throughout the match the only attacks he sent across the net were with a volleyball. Daichi didn’t miss the suspicious looks Oikawa shot him between plays, and he couldn’t blame him for them. Oikawa knew Daichi was up to _something_ , but the fact that he was yet to make any attempt on Daichi’s life proved he was not the mind-reader Daichi had suspected him of being on more than one occasion.

 

But failing to be a match for Oikawa didn’t make Suga a weak setter by any means; even amidst the onslaught of Oikawa’s brutal serves he kept the team’s spirits up with encouraging words to match his smile. Daichi found his frustration at being unable to play only worsened when he watched Suga in particular. He wanted to be the one receiving balls for him. He wanted to be the one earning Suga’s praise. He wanted to be his partner on the court as well as off and _oh God it wasn’t fair_. Daichi shook himself. He was being pathetic.

 

Yet, distracted as he was, Daichi was still paying enough attention to the game to notice that Suga was not sending as many tosses to Kuroo as he could have been. Judging from the harsh-set line of his mouth, Kuroo had noticed too.

 

Despite the best efforts of the entire team, it was Oikawa’s team which emerged victorious. Not that anyone other than Daichi was paying much attention to the score; most were playing for the sake of playing. Some were also taking the opportunity to work through a few issues by slamming a ball around. But if Oikawa and Iwaizumi – and, by the looks of it, Kuroo too – wanted to blow of some steam that way, hell, Daichi wasn’t in any position to criticise. He had done the same enough times, and if his leg weren’t broken…

 

Well, Daichi had to find some other way of working through his troubles. Something that didn’t involve as much movement. For the moment he would have to content himself with observation.

 

The sets blurred together, and it was only when it became clear that nobody had the energy left to stand that they drew the session to a close. Only Oikawa seemed dissatisfied; despite the sweat dripping from his skin and the muscles now shaking with fatigue, the tension in his shoulders remained. While the others tidied up, Oikawa continued to slam ball after ball from one end of the court to the other, even after the net had been taken down.

 

Soon everyone else had left to change. Only Daichi and Oikawa remained.

 

“I would have thought you’d learnt your lesson by now, Sawamura.” Oikawa’s voice, low and terrifyingly dark, echoed off the walls of the empty gymnasium. He spun the ball in his hands a few times before slamming it across the court. An empty water bottle by Daichi’s feet toppled over with the force of the impact that shook through the floorboards.

 

Daichi tilted his head to one side, meeting Oikawa’s gaze full-on. “And that would be what, Oikawa?”

 

“That messing around in other people’s affairs only causes trouble for yourself. So don’t bother.” His eyes flickered towards the door. “Or should I go and see how Mister Refreshing is doing? He looked _so_ flustered today. Maybe I should see if I can make it any worse.” His smile was cold and malicious, and Daichi didn’t doubt the sincerity in the threat.

 

Fortunately for Daichi, he knew better than to be afraid. He had the upper hand, after all. “You don’t get to lecture me for that. You’re the one who dragged me into your life in the first place.”

 

Oikawa snorted, briefly blowing a few locks of hair out of his eyes. “What are you up to, Sawamura? I know you didn’t set this match up because you wanted to watch a little volleyball. You wanted me here for a reason.” 

 

Daichi smiled with confidence he didn’t feel, and Oikawa’s frown deepened at the sight of it. He took a step back, as though expecting ambush or attack.

 

“I’m giving you a final chance. To talk to Iwaizumi. To tell him how you feel.” Daichi’s smile widened. “Or else.”

 

“Are you _threatening_ _me?!_ ” Oikawa spluttered, his cool façade momentarily slipping with indignation.

 

“You better believe it.” Daichi pushed himself to his feet. Despite the crutches he stood tall, refusing to let himself wobble. Oikawa’s eyes flashed in anger.

 

“You can’t just corner me into doing whatever the hell you want me to do. None of this is any of your business, and I don’t owe you anything!”

 

“No,” Daichi said quietly, “but you owe him.” He nodded to the doorway.

 

Iwaizumi stepped into the room. He had changed back into his usual jeans and tank top, and his brown skin was flushed from the heat of the showers, or perhaps from nerves. Daichi didn’t blame him. Iwaizumi joined Daichi in front of the benches, his movements slow and predictable as though Oikawa were a small animal he was afraid of startling.

 

“Hey.” Iwaizumi rubbed his neck, eyes on the floor.

 

Oikawa pinched his lips into a hard line. “I’m not doing this. You tricked me.” He spun around, before realising that Iwaizumi and Daichi stood between him and the exit. He turned back to face them, glowering.

 

“I’m not going to make you do or say anything you don’t want to, Oikawa,” Daichi said pleasantly.

 

“Good. Then I’m leaving.” Oikawa stalked past them, fists clenched, his trainers squeaking against the polished wooden floor. He grabbed the toppled water bottle as he passed, shaking the last few drops into his mouth.

 

“I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” Daichi muttered under his breath. Iwaizumi sent him a quizzical look, but Daichi spoke before any questions could be asked. “But before you go, Oikawa, I have one question.”

 

Oikawa stopped in the doorway. He half-turned towards them, his face a mix of anger and curiosity. “Oh?”

 

“Do you love Iwaizumi?”

 

The water bottle slipped through Oikawa’s fingers and landed on the floor with a loud clatter. Beside Daichi Iwaizumi had frozen, holding his breath as he waited, eyes searching every inch of Oikawa’s body for the slightest hint of an answer.

 

Oikawa turned, chin held high, his haughty air negated by the wobble of his lower lip. “No.” His voice was firm and harsh, and Iwaizumi flinched as thought the words had physically struck him. Then the anger kicked in.

 

“Fine. If that’s how you want to play this, then FINE,” Iwaizumi spat through gritted teeth. He stood tall, shoulders rising and falling in time with the heavy breaths that shook his body. His eyebrows were drawn together in concentration. “I’ll play along, Oikawa, like I always do. You don’t have feelings for me? Then I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t care what I do, or who with. So you won’t care in the slightest if I just-” He raised his arms into the air, gesturing vaguely around the empty gymnasium. His eyes fell upon Daichi. “Sorry about this.”

 

That was the only warning Daichi received.

 

With his free arm Iwaizumi grabbed Daichi by the back of his neck. He pulled him forwards and into him until their mouths collided.

 

There was a brief moment of silence. Probably because everyone – perhaps Iwaizumi included – was in too much shock to do anything. Iwaizumi felt unbearably hot against Daichi’s skin, still damp from the shower. His stubble scratched Daichi’s skin raw and his mouth, which Daichi had caught wide open, breathed a heated of air into his mouth, lips wet against his.

 

Daichi pulled back. “What the fuck-?!”

 

“-YOU BASTARD!” Oikawa collided with Iwaizumi, knocking him off his feet and onto the floor with a thud. He stood over Iwaizumi, his face red, chest heaving and lips twisted into a snarl.

 

“ _Am_ I now?” Iwaizumi pushed himself back onto his feet, his face inches from Oikawa’s. “And why would that be? Why can’t I kiss Daichi, or anyone else for that matter? Why, Oikawa, would that upset you?”

 

“Because!” Oikawa barked, grabbing Iwaizumi by his shirt with a hand that quivered with rage, “YOU. ARE. MINE.”

 

For a second Iwaizumi’s mask cracked and a low breath shuddered from his body as he looked up at Oikawa with dilated pupils. Then, once more, he snapped.

 

“Fuck you!”

 

“Well, fuck you too!”

 

For less than a second the pair glared at each other, chests heaving, and Oikawa’s arm still in Iwaizumi’s iron grip.

 

It was Oikawa that moved first, probably, but for Daichi it was hard to tell. It all happened in a fraction of a moment. Oikawa surged forwards. Iwaizumi’s grip fell away. The anger evaporated into desperation as their hands fell upon each other, tearing across chests and shoulders and cheeks before pulling through tangled locks of hair, anywhere and everywhere, both of them too distracted to care as at long last they kissed each other, long and slow and deep and desperate.

 

Daichi took this as his cue to leave.

 

As he left he was struck by the thought that, in the most bizarre and roundabout way, he and Oikawa were now, officially, even.

 

A kiss for a kiss.

 

***

  

Suga pulled his jacket over his shoulders as he stepped out into the cool air, shivering a little as the breeze brushed his skin. He turned to find Kuroo slouched against the wall, arms crossed tight against his chest.

 

“Hey, Kuroo. Are you waiting for Daichi?”

 

He received a vague grunt as confirmation.

 

_God._ Suga thought. _He really is turning into a moody teen_.

 

“I already said you don’t have to baby me.” Kuroo raised his head a little, scowling.

 

“What? I was only asking.”

 

“I wasn’t talking about that.” Kuroo pushed himself away from the wall. Despite the curve in his shoulders he still loomed over Suga, easily swallowing the smaller man in his shadow. “During the match you weren’t tossing to me, you weren’t challenging me. You were worried about my injuries.”

 

Oh. He had noticed.

 

“Kuroo, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

 

Kuroo snorted. “Whatever.” He flopped back against the wall once more, tapping his fingers frantically across his lap as though he were tapping out a frenzied drum beat. “You know,” Kuroo said with a half-laugh. “There probably _is_ something you can help me with.”

 

“Of course, Kuroo, anything.” Suga leaned on the wall beside him.

 

“It’s – It’s _this_.” He nodded to his hand, still tapping out a tune only Kuroo seemed to hear.

 

“What about it?”

 

“I… I can’t stop it.”

 

Suga looked from Kuroo’s hands to his face, which was paler than it should have been and scrunched up in frustration. “How long-?”

 

The door beside them swung open and Daichi emerged, hair ruffled and a mischievous grin playing with the corners of his mouth. “Hey, guys.”

 

Suga looked back to Kuroo, who had shoved his hands deep into his pockets. His expression was clear – _not in front of Daichi_. Suga sent him the tiniest nod before turning back to Daichi, reciprocating the smile as sincerely as he could. “Hey. How did it go with your neighbours?”

 

“Absolutely brilliantly. You don’t have to worry about Oikawa trying to make out with you anymore, Suga.”

 

Kuroo squinted at Daichi. “You know, I can’t tell if you’re making up half of the things you talk about.” The three of them turned and started walking, Daichi’s crutched tapping out a steady rhythm against the pavement.

 

“Oh, yeah, everything I say is true. Did I tell you about the time I beat Kenma at a Karaoke contest?”

 

“Okay, now I _know_ you’re bullshitting me. I’ve _heard_ you sing, Sawamura.”

 

“This is my turnoff, guys.” Suga came to a stop, pleasant smile still in place. “I’ll come over later this week, if that’s okay. Kuroo, we can talk more about things then.”

 

“Alright.” Kuroo replied, eyes skating between Suga and Daichi. “I’ll see you then.”

 

They exchanged their goodbyes. There was a questioning tilt to Daichi’s head as he waved Suga goodbye, but if Daichi knew something was up he said nothing.

 

Suga continued on his way, and soon the tapping of Daichi’s crutches was replaced by the tapping of heavy raindrops as they hit the pavement. Suga quickened his pace, but soon his hair was plastered to his head and ice-cold droplets were trickling down his neck. He half-wished he had followed Daichi and Kuroo back to their flat, which was closer and bound to be warm even if it smelled slightly of Kuroo’s socks. But that wouldn’t have been a good plan for a few reasons.

 

He had to keep his distance from Daichi for a few days at least. Too much of a risk.

 

Under no circumstances could Daichi find out that Suga had heard the phone call.

 

He couldn’t find out how much it had hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't mention the karaoke night around Kenma if you want to live.
> 
> Speaking of Kenma... 
> 
> Coming up next week: A lion king reenactment and a crisis of sexuality.  
> You can probably guess who I'm talking about here.


	20. The One With Kuroo's Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo's life sure is... h a r d.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smoking tw in the first paragraph

Kuroo wanted a cigarette. _God_ , he wanted a cigarette. Not just to settle his nerves or kill the nagging craving that had taken permanent residence in the back of his mind, although those reasons certainly contributed. No, it was mostly because, more than anything, he needed something to do with his _fucking hands_.

 

Picking away at his guitar just wasn’t cutting it anymore and, as fun as it was to irritate Daichi, the threat of being garrotted with the E string grew closer with every twitch of his eye.

 

So he was giving the guitar a rest. But what did that leave? He had tried juggling Daichi’s glasses in the kitchen – he had really been that desperate – but, while _one_ smashed glass had gone unnoticed, Kuroo suspected that any more vanishing crockery would have Daichi smelling a Kuroo-shaped rat. Then there had been the lighter incident – but really, Kuroo couldn’t be blamed for that. It was Daichi’s fault for having such ridiculously over-sensitive smoke detectors. Either way the idea was a bust. 

 

Kuroo sat in the centre of the couch, his head bent and his eyes screwed up in concentration. Yet no matter what he did he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t keep his hands from twitching, from tapping, from trembling. It was driving him _insane_. 

 

He let his head flop onto the back of the couch with a shaky moan. At least Daichi wasn’t around to see his frustration. He had started back at work – not fully, just a couple days a week, and keeping himself on the side-lines. There was only so much P.E. one could teach with a leg still in a cast. Kuroo wondered if his presence in the flat had prompted Daichi’s sudden return to work. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person to live with.

 

His pity parade was interrupted by a knock at the door. Kuroo wondered if it was one of the neighbours after milk or something. Since Saturday’s volleyball match he and Daichi had been subject to some… _interesting_ noises from the apartment next to theirs that had somehow made it through the walls that were by no means thin. Kuroo didn’t trust himself not to burst out laughing upon the sight of either one of them after some of the things he had heard.

 

The smirk dropped from his face when he opened the door. It was not one of the neighbours.

 

Kenma tumbled into the flat, struggling under the weight of the cat basket in his arms, the occupant of which was producing more noise than Kuroo had ever heard from a cat.

 

“No – questions – need – help,” Kenma puffed, heaving the basket through to the living room and propping it up on the coffee table. Through the slits along the side of the basket Kuroo could see Altair twisting and rolling and pretty much looking as upset as it was possible for a cat to be. The eerily human-like shrieks weren’t helping.

 

“…the fuck?” Kuroo stooped over to peer in at the cat as it thrashed and hissed.

 

“I don’t know, he just – he just gets like this sometimes, and I can’t…” Kenma’s words caught in his throat. “You’re the only one who can calm him down when his happens, so _please_ , can you…?”

 

Kuroo didn’t hesitate. Which was stupid, really, considering the cat looked ready to take someone’s hand off. He had always had a soft spot for cats, and Altair had been good company over the last couple weeks. Altair didn’t care about Kuroo’s amnesia, and he didn’t judge Kuroo for leaving dirty socks in strange places or abandoning take-out on the floor. What more could anyone ask for?

 

Kuroo slid the latch across and reached into the basket before Altair could try anything. Muscle memory took over as he lifted the wriggling creature into the air, his hold firm yet gentle.

 

“Simba,” Kuroo whispered.

 

Kenma snorted. “Original.”

 

“So, uh, what do I do with him?” Kuroo asked. Altair was – there was only one word for it – _glaring_ as he wriggled, with wide green eyes that made Kuroo’s skin prickle.

 

“I don’t know, you just have a way of holding him,” Kenma snapped. Kuroo took in the ruffled hair and the bags under his eyes and decided not to comment on his shortened temper. Instead he re-adjusted his hold of Altair, holding him tight against his chest. The cat stilled instantly. Kuroo remained silent, enjoying the tiny tap-tap of a heartbeat against his skin. 

 

He looked to Kenma for confirmation, which he gave with a tilt of his head. Kuroo smiled in response, gently lowering himself onto the couch so as not to disturb Altair. He slid down onto his back and let the cat sprawl out across his chest, smiling again at the quiet vibrations that told him Altair was purring. He began running his hands through the thick black fur and felt the tension in his muscles relax at the steady, repetitive motions.

 

He looked up to find Kenma’s gaze still on him. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” Kenma answered quickly, dropping his eyes.

 

Kuroo sighed, before shifting his legs out of the way enough to leave a small space on the couch. “Wanna watch something?”

 

“I thought you didn’t want to be around me.” Kenma’s hair tumbled in front of his face as he lowered his head, shielding his face from view. There was nothing accusatory in his voice, and somehow that hurt more.

 

“I didn’t – I mean – not like that!” Kuroo propped himself up on his elbows, earning him a hiss of protest from Altair. He groaned. “Do you want to watch TV or not?”

 

Kuroo wished Kenma would stop looking at him as though he were some irritating puzzle he couldn’t solve. It was as though Kenma was expecting something more, like if he cracked the rubix cube it would open up to reveal a prize of some kind at the core. It drove Kuroo nuts. There was nothing all that special inside him. Nothing worth Kenma’s interest, that was for sure.

 

Against all of Kuroo’s expectations, Kenma perched on the end of the couch, hugging his knees against his chest.

 

They watched some crappy daytime television together in a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable.  Kuroo continued petting Altair, his movements so soothing and repetitive that he didn’t even have to think about it. His attention was instead split between the dumb property show (which received little) and covert Kenma observation (which received substantially more).

 

Kuroo followed the curve of Kenma’s shoulders, studied the slender pale arms that encircled his knees. Despite Kenma’s small frame Kuroo could still pick out the gentle tell-tale curves of a muscular body that was stronger than it looked. Kuroo’s eyes followed Kenma’s arms up past his shoulders to his neck. A few longer strands of hair were long enough to tickle his skin, and Kenma would often reach up to brush them back behind his ears, exposing a long expanse of pale skin.

 

Kuroo thought about kissing that skin.

 

No, not thought about. Those were the wrong words. They didn’t come near it. The moment was more like an explosion in his mind, a vivid image that set his blood boiling because the scrape of teeth against bruise-smattered skin and the low moan that followed was too much for his system to handle. It wasn’t a thought, nor was it some wild fantasy. Kuroo’s imagination had never had a fraction of the ability required to come up with _that._

 

No, this was not a thought. This was a memory.

 

It took a second for Kuroo’s mind to snap out of it, and another one for him to realise Kenma was looking at him.

 

“What?” Kuroo asked, voice wobbling.

 

“You made a noise.”

 

“Uh… Did I?”

 

“Yeah, it was kind of, um…” The tips of Kenma’s ears reddened. “A gasp.”

 

“Oh! Uh, sorry, it’s just such an exciting show, you know?”

 

They both looked over to the television. A man was talking about building an extension.

 

Kenma, thank god, didn’t pursue it.

 

Kuroo sat there, muscles tensed, convinced that his face had turned every shade of red imaginable. Because… Jesus. _Jesus_.

 

What the fuck. What. The. Fuck.

 

Okay, well, in retrospect, he had no right to be quite so… surprised. They had told him – and he had grudgingly accepted the fact – that Kenma and he had dated, bizarre as that sounded to Kuroo, who had never so much as looked at a guy, well, like _that_. But he had never thought about… he hadn’t considered….

 

- _Skin damp with sweat breathless panting nails scratching -_

 

Kuroo pretended to watch the television with eyes that were too wide and cheeks that were too red. He didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t even want to remember it.

 

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

 

He was… He was attracted to Kenma.

 

How had he never noticed before? It was the memory. It had to be. It was messing with his head, making him think things, making him _feel_ things…

 

But that didn’t change the fact that, shit-shit-shit-shit, he _liked Kenma_. God help him.

 

Kuroo watched with a vague sense of detachment as his so-called heterosexuality slowly receded beyond the horizon in his mind. Life was going to be a lot more complicated without it.

 

But then Kuroo had to hold back a snort, because, hell, his life couldn’t _get_ more complicated.  

 

He shifted onto his side, rolling Altair into the crux of his arm so he could continue scratching the cat’s ears as he thought. Yet for whatever reason helpful thinking had deserted Kuroo, and all he had left to do was replay the flash of memory in his mind.

 

Over. And over.

 

And over.

 

***

 

Daichi’s return to work couldn’t have come at a better time. He had been reaching breaking point.

 

It hadn’t been the weeks and weeks of sitting around doing nothing that had been pushing him towards the edge. As hellish as that had been, his friends had between them had managed to conjure up enough drama to keep him thoroughly occupied over the course of his down time. Neither was the cause Kuroo’s arrival in his flat. Sure, the chaos that came from living with Kuroo was no walk in the park, but at the end of the day he would suffer a lot worse if that was what it took to help Kuroo. No, the reason for Daichi’s need to return could be summarised in one word: Suga.

 

Suga had tumbled into Daichi’s life in a whirlwind of mishaps and chance meetings, but somehow along the way their paths had become so tangled that Daichi couldn’t remember where his problems ended and Suga’s began.

 

And now Suga was leaving. Leaving _him_.

 

So Daichi had to be busy, _had to be_ , because if he had even a second to stop and think his throat would close up and his fists would clench and he would _hurt_. He wished he were still young enough to throw a temper tantrum, to scream and stamp his feet until the world behaved as he wanted it to. That not being an option, he turned back to his job.

 

Headmaster Ukai welcomed him back with a raised eyebrow and a handshake, but didn’t question Daichi’s refusal of extra time off.

 

Daichi threw himself back into teaching as best he could. He still couldn’t demonstrate or participate in most activities, but he was dammed if he was letting sloppy technique go undetected.

 

It was after a long day of instruction from the side-lines that Daichi tumbled into the flat, feet dragging on the floor.

 

“Evening,” Daichi yawned. Kuroo was in the same place he had been when Daichi had left that morning, sprawled out across the couch.   

 

“Evening,” Kuroo replied. He paused. “Hey, Daichi. I’m not straight. Did you know that? I’m really not straight.” His head flopped back against the armrest as he looked up to the ceiling. “Like, I’m on Olympic levels here. I could compete nationally.”

 

Daichi blinked. “Right.”

 

“Like, as an athlete. Except less athletics and more oh-my-god-I-like-dudes.”

                

“Right. Well, congratulations, Kuroo. As a matter of fact, I did know, but thanks for the update.”

 

“Well, _you_ may have known, but I didn’t! Well, I do now, but, uh, yeah.” Kuroo scratched his chin, running his fingers over a couple days’ worth of stubble. 

 

Daichi nudged Kuroo’s feet out of the way with his crutch – an action he was becoming all too familiar with – before sitting himself down. He glanced around.

 

“That goddamn cat has been here, hasn’t it?”

 

“”Uh…” Kuroo gave Daichi a perturbed look. “Not that I’m saying you’re right, but if he had been here, how the heck would you know?”

 

“I _am_ right, and I know because I can see the goddamn hair everywhere!”

 

“There is nothing wrong with my cat. Filthy dog person.” Kuroo turned up his nose.

 

“Your cat is the devil incarnate. He malts everywhere, eats everything and terrifies everyone with any sense.”

 

“He doesn’t terrify me!”

 

“ _Exactly_.”

 

Kuroo whistled. “Low blow, Daichi.”

 

Daichi smirked. “So, was it the cat who spurned this revelation or the person who brought the cat?”

 

Kuroo scowled and pursed his lips. Daichi snorted.

 

“Wow, Kuroo. We should play poker together sometime.” The smile slid from Daichi’s face when Kuroo continued to frown. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have… Are you okay with it?”

 

“I guess. It’s kind of… It wasn’t that I never believed you guys, but all the same. I wasn’t expecting it. But yeah, I googled some stuff, because at first it didn’t make sense, I mean, I’ve dated girls before, and that was alright. But, like, this felt different. Best I can figure, I’m bisexual or something? Maybe. I think. I dunno. Not knowing for sure is kinda stressful.”

 

“Nothing wrong with not knowing. I was clueless for ages.”

 

“It didn’t bother you?”

 

Daichi shrugged. “I just let things figure themselves out. It’s not worth getting stressed over, Kuroo.”

 

“I suppose you’re right.” Kuroo dropped an arm across his eyes.

 

“So.” Daichi paused, smirking. “Kenma, huh?”

 

He earned a pillow to the head for his troubles, and Daichi couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it.

 

But even after a long day of work and an evening of teasing Kuroo about his crush, Daichi couldn’t quite escape the growing panic at the back of his mind as the day of Suga’s departure drew closer and closer.

 

He wondered if Suga could feel it too.

 

***

 

Suga was about three seconds away from trying to club someone to death with the one of the stacks of wedding magazines which Noya had kindly scattered across the floor of his living room like a matrimonial collage. The sight of so many cheesy and manically-grinning white couples at once was enough to drive him mad. Why were they all white, anyway? Did these magazines think only white people got married?!

 

Suga cut himself off before he embarked on the seventh wedding-related rant that week. Planning a move _and_ a marriage was getting to him.

 

One of the piles toppled as Tanaka sat up, magazines sliding off him and flopping onto the floor. He blinked blearily up at Suga. “G’d mornin’”

 

“It’s five in the afternoon, Tanaka. Were you there all night?”

 

“Must’v been.”

 

Suga sighed. In the chaos of wedding plans and Asahi and Noya’s prolonged stay, Tanaka had pretty much moved in with them, which, alarmingly, was a fact which was only now coming to Suga’s notice.

 

Like many, many things in his life, Suga let it slide.

 

Ignoring the drowsy policeman on his floor, Suga returned to his reason for entering the room in the first place, which had been… Damn, what had it been?!

 

Oh, yeah. Knitting needles. Which were not in here.

 

Nor were they anywhere obvious in the kitchen; there he found only Noya, sat at the kitchen table with his head bent over sheets of Asahi’s small, neat print.

 

“Noya, have you seen my-?” Suga broke off. Noya’s shoulders were hunched so high they touched his ears, and he gripped the biro in his hand tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. “Noya? Are you okay?”

 

“’m _fine_.” Noya’s answer set every alarm bell in Suga’s head ringing. When Noya had a problem, everyone knew about it. The only reason he wouldn’t share was if it was something big.

 

“Is that the guest list?” Suga sat beside him, dealing out a gentle shoulder nudge.

 

“Mmm.” Noya didn’t move his eyes from the paper.

 

“Is Asahi not helping with this?”

 

“He is. He put all his family down. All of our friends. The only thing missing is…”

 

“…your family?”

 

Noya bit his lip as he scowled down at the paper. “Yeah. My _family_.”

 

“Noya. None of us expect you to-”

 

“I know! I know!” Noya pushed himself away from the table, balancing his chair on two legs. Suga pushed the chair back down with a warning frown. “It just… bothers me, you know? Asahi has his three brothers and his three sisters and his parents and his grandparents and his uncles and his aunts and, like, a billion cousins, and I have…” Noya trailed off, his bottom lip wobbling. “I thought it didn’t bother me anymore. It’s so stupid. _It shouldn’t bother me!_ ” He crossed his arms tightly against his chest.

 

“Noya…” Suga placed a hand on Noya’s shoulder and squeezed. “You can’t let them keep hurting you like this.”

 

“I know. I know. It’s not like I want the same people who kicked me to the kerb for kissing a dude within a million miles of my wedding.” Noya sighed. “But all those wedding magazines were talking about how it’s not just, like, a joining of two people. It’s a joining of two families. Asahi’s got so much to offer, and I can’t give him anything in return.”

 

“Noya, you _know_ that doesn’t matter to him.”

 

“Yeah, but maybe it matters to me!”

 

“Now you listen to me!” Suga snapped, taking Noya by the shoulders and turning him towards him. “Asahi loves you. He _loves_ you, Noya, and you love him. That is rare, and that is special, and that is _all you need_.”     

 

 “Really? Is that so?” Noya tilted his chin up to give himself more height, his eyes flashing.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Suga replied through gritted teeth.

 

“Then what the hell is getting between you and Daichi?!”

 

“What?” Suga froze. Heart thudding, he realised that it was now he who was under the magnifying glass. And that was _not_ a place he needed to be.

 

“If love is all it takes, then you would be together by now. So why aren’t you?”

 

“Because – Because-!” Suga spluttered. “That’s different and you know it, stop trying to change the subject!”

 

“How is what you two have any different?”

 

“Because…” Suga bit his lip. “Well, he’s never _said_ anything, and-”

 

“Wait.” Noya leaned in, scrunching up his nose. Suga instinctively backed away from the scrutiny. “You’re hiding something from me.”

 

“What the – Noya, how can you…?”

 

“Sugawara Koushi, I know you well enough to know when you’re avoiding telling me something. Spill, before I get Tanaka to come in here with his handcuffs.”

 

“You wouldn’t.” The words hadn’t even left Suga’s mouth before he was doubting them. This was Noya, after all.

 

Noya opened his mouth. “TANA-MMFP!” His yell was cut off when Suga clamped a hand over his mouth. Nonetheless Tanaka burst into the room seconds later, fists raised, bouncing from foot to foot.

 

“Who’m I fighting?!”

 

“Suga!” Noya grunted through Suga’s hand, at the same moment that Suga yelled “Noya!”

 

“Oh.” Tanaka paused mid-bounce. “Both of you it is, then.” He smiled.

 

Three minutes, two toppled chairs and a bruised elbow later, Tanaka had them both in headlocks.

 

“Call him off! Call him off!” Suga gasped as he grappled with Tanaka’s arm.

 

“Mrrngh! Mmph!” Noya replied. Tanaka laughed heartily.

 

“Oh, man, you guys are – wait, no, don’t tickle, don’t – BWA HA HA HA!”

 

The prodding from either side set Tanaka’s knees buckling beneath him, and the trio collapsed into a pile on the floor.

 

“I’m never going to find my knitting needles, am I?” Suga sighed as he stared up at the yellow kitchen light.

 

“Your needles? You should have said!” Noya sat up. “I was using them to eat leftover noodles.”

 

“Noya, my needles are not chopsticks. I would appreciate it if you stopped putting them in your mouth.”

 

“Hey, I washed them up after!”

 

Suga climbed back onto his feet, and yep, there they were, sitting on the draining board. Obviously. “You know what? I’m not sure I want them anymore.”

 

Tanaka bounded up after him. “Oh, hey! My back-scratchers!”

 

Suga put his head in his hands. “Is nothing sacred?”

 

“So, where were we?” Noya asked as he climbed to his feet. “Oh, yeah, Suga’s secret!”

 

“Suga has a secret?” Tanaka asked, grinning mischievously.

 

“I do not have a secret!”

 

“He has a secret, buddy, and I’m finding out what it is.”

 

“Oooh, great, gimmie a sec.” Tanaka headed out into the corridor. A few seconds later he appeared with a bowl of popcorn.

 

“Tanaka, where did you…?”

 

“Ssssh.” He picked up a fallen chair and sat up at the table, munching the popcorn. Noya took the seat beside him. “Okay, go.”

 

“This isn’t a show, guys.” 

 

They answered him with louder munching.

 

Suga sighed. “Okay. Okay, fine, but if I tell you guys you have to keep this between us. Then will you get off my back?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Ugh. Okay. Fine. I may have overheard Daichi say something. Something I was never meant to hear.”

 

“What did he say?” Tanaka leaned in, his voice unusually soft, and Noya mirrored the action.

 

“No. No, I can’t say, it wouldn’t be fair to him.”

 

“Yeah, but we can guess, can’t we?” said Noya. “Did he, I dunno, confess his undying love for you or something?”

 

Suga spluttered and coughed, cursing the red face that betrayed him. “No!”

 

“Oh my God, he did! He did, Suga, you sly bastard! Why didn't you tell us?!”

 

“Keep your voice down!” Suga snapped, glancing over his shoulder as though he expected Daichi to appear at any moment. “Look, Daichi made it clear that he didn't want me to know about this, so he can't know that I know. Get it?!”

 

Tanaka frowned. “So he doesn't know you know, and you know he doesn't know. But we know you know, and no one knows that we know. No?”

 

"Bro, I think you broke me,” Noya groaned.

 

Tanaka nodded. “I know.” He turned to Suga. “But why doesn't Daichi want you to know?”

 

“Oh my god, Tanaka, even I'm lost now,” said Suga, rubbing circles into his forehead.

 

“But why?” Tanaka persisted, “Why wouldn’t Daichi want you to know that he loved you?”

 

“Because he’s trying to protect me.” Suga rolled his eyes at the blank faces before him before deciding to elaborate. “He knows I’m leaving. He knows that anything he says to me now will just make it all the more painful when I do leave…” Suga trailed off, swallowing. “…and he was right. It could- It’s going to- Well. The best thing we can do is pretend, okay? So neither of you can say anything about this to anyone, least of al Daichi.” Suga let his eyes drop to the floor rather than face the sympathetic looks he was receiving.  

 

“But that means it doesn’t matter anyway. Both of you are still going to end up getting hurt.” Noya clenched his fists.

 

“It _does_ matter. Because Daichi… Daichi believes that he hasn’t hurt me, and it’s going to stay that way.” Suga felt something inside him snap. He couldn’t continue with this conversation any longer, not right now. He walked over to the draining board and snatched up the abused but still functional needles, using the action as an excuse to hide his expression.

 

“So it doesn’t change anything. You’re still going to leave.” Tanaka’s voice, steady but cautious, only grated on Suga’s already-fried nerves.

 

“Yes,” Suga snapped as he shoved his needles into his satchel.

 

“Even though you love him too?”

 

Suga froze. In the reflection from his kitchen window he saw two wide pairs of eyes upon him.

 

“I can’t deny people who need my help,” Suga choked out, hating himself for the tremor in his voice. “No matter what. Please don’t ask me about it again.” He punctuated the end of the sentence with the sound of his satchel zipping shut, and there were no further questions to plague him as he left.

 

It wasn't until he was halfway to Daichi's house that he noticed how much he was shaking.

 

 

 

It would stop. It had to. 

 

He had to keep moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tanaka is the Joey Tribbiani of this fic.  
> Yup not even pretending to be subtle with the friends references anymore.  
> There's a good reason for them.  
> Wink.
> 
> Next week: Once again, Kuroo puts Daichi's fish in mortal peril. Fruit smoothie may be involved.
> 
> OH AND BEFORE I FORGET  
> I can't remember where I saw it but I came across a link to this fic on a rec list the other day so a massive thank you to the lovely reader who gave me the shoutout :D Did I mention I love you guys? Because I do.


	21. The One With the Fruit Smoothie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo's culinary adventures are only marginally less destructive than Noya's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's update is a little on the "short and sweet" side, my apologies: I want to add another scene before the next section but hopefully this won't end up with any delays.
> 
> Have some mindless fluff.
> 
> +++swapping the tag "light angst" with "moderate angst" as a few people have brought it up now and yeah you're right. We've certainly had some... heavy moments.

Needless to say, Suga did not arrive at Daichi’s flat that evening in the best of moods.

 

It seemed that he wasn’t the only one in a bad temper, judging by the look on Daichi’s face when he answered the door.

 

“Oh thank god, a doctor’s here. Kuroo’s going to need one by the time I’ve finished with him.”

 

“It was an ACCIDENT!” Kuroo yelled from the kitchen.

 

“Do I want to know?” Suga asked as he followed Daichi down the corridor.

 

“No, but you’re going to find out anyway.”

 

When they entered the kitchen, Suga had to take a few seconds to process it all. Pink-red sludge dripped from every conceivable surface. Kuroo was standing on the table with a mop in one hand and a glass coffee pot in the other, his hair plastered to his head and his shirt soaked red. Shards of glass were scattered across the floor amidst a flood of pebbles and the remains of Daichi’s fish tank. The occupants of said tank had been relocated to the coffee pot under Kuroo’s arm where they swam in lazy circles, completely indifferent to the chaos around them.

 

“Oh. Oh dear.” Suga gagged at the overpowering smell of strawberries. Something wet landed on his head. He touched his hand to his hair before looking up at the red spatters across the ceiling.

 

“Funnily enough, that was my reaction too. Except with a lot more anger and profanity.” Daichi wiped a smear of red away from where it had landed on his nose.

 

“Daichi’s mouth should be washed out with soap.” Kuroo chortled. The mop slipped through his arms and clattered down onto the table.

 

“I’ll tell you where you can shove your goddamn soap.” Daichi grabbed the mop and thrust it back into Kuroo’s hands, taking the coffee pot in return. “Mop that crap off the ceiling before it dries out. Suga, you might want to get out of here before it drips all over you…”

 

Suga opened up his trusty polka-dot umbrella with a wide grin.

 

“…of course,” Daichi sighed over the sound of Kuroo’s laughter.

 

“So, have you been taking cooking lessons from Noya by any chance?” Suga said as he pulled out a chair.  Daichi went in search of a more suitable temporary fish home while Kuroo began wiping lumps of sludge from the ceiling. One landed beside Suga with a splat. “This is very much his style, I have to say.”

 

“This wasn’t my fault. It’s Daichi’s stupid blender. It went berserk.”

 

“MY BLENDER IS FINE! YOU’RE INCOMPETENT!” Daichi hollered from the bathroom. This was followed by the sound of running water.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK DOES MY SEX LIFE HAVE TO DO WITH THIS, YOU DICK?!”

 

“You’re thinking of impotent, Kuroo.” Suga grinned, twirling the umbrella between his fingers. “But there’s medication I can get you if that’s-”

 

“Ha-fucking-ha.” Kuroo lowered the mop head to point at Suga’s face. Suga could see a few lumps of mangled strawberry mashed into a red soup of cobwebs and dust. “Please, continue, while I hold this mop right here, nice and close to your face.”

 

Suga poked Kuroo with the end of his umbrella. “ _En garde_!”       

 

“If you break your leg falling off that table I will have no sympathy whatsoever, Kuroo,” Daichi growled as he returned from the bathroom.

 

“But he started it!” Kuroo’s indignation prompted another giggle from Suga.

 

“I don’t care, I’m finishing it.”

 

“Careful, Daichi, he has a mop!”

 

“And I’m not afraid to use it!” Kuroo laughed, swinging the weapon above his head and spraying droplets of smoothie everywhere.

 

“You’re going to break something else if you keep messing around like that,” Daichi said as he ducked under Suga’s umbrella. In the confined space Daichi’s shoulder pressed against Suga’s and he was so close that Suga could smell his aftershave.

 

“I didn’t break your friggin’ blender, I just abused it a little,” Kuroo called down. He pushed the mop back and forth across the ceiling, cutting a path through the sludge.

 

“And I suppose the fish tank just exploded all on its own, huh?”

 

“Hey, your blender is scary. I jumped. Things were smashed. Still not my fault.”

 

“Oh, I _really_ beg to differ.” Daichi peaked out from under the umbrella in time to catch sight of Kuroo sticking out his tongue. “Suga, he’s bullying me,” Daichi whined.

 

“Oh for god’s sake, the pair of you.” Suga dabbed his fingers in a table top sludge puddle and booped Daichi on the nose. Daichi went cross-eyed, gaping at the red blob on the tip of his nose with horror.

 

“ _Suga!”_  

 

Suga laughed, which turned out to be a terrible mistake. Daichi took his moment of distraction to deal out an attack of his own, poking Suga in the cheek with dripping fingers.

 

“Oh, yuck!” Suga wiped at the cold liquid running down his cheek, succeeding only in smearing it across his face.

 

“What the hell are you two doing under there?” Kuroo bent down to peer under the umbrella.

 

“This!” Suga flicked a lump of sludge in Kuroo’s direction, splattering his face with strawberry freckles. Kuroo’s jaw dropped, his reaction a mirror of Daichi’s, who was now laughing so hard that toppling over seemed imminent. His laughter turned into a shriek when Kuroo shoved the mop in his face.

 

From there onwards it was all-out carnage.

 

Suga, wielding his umbrella like a shield, had a significant advantage, but it turned out to be no match for Kuroo’s mop-sparring skills. Poor Daichi, slowed by his crutches and unable to defend himself, was soon overwhelmed by attacks from either side.

 

In a matter of minutes there wasn’t an inch of clothing or skin that wasn’t stained, splattered or soaked, and the game ended at last with Daichi’s surrender. Cornered between a mop and an umbrella, he raised his hands in defeat with a chuckle. Laughing and panting, Kuroo slung an arm around Daichi and Suga’s shoulders and pulled them in.

 

“Come on, guys, let me wipe some of this off onto the two of you.”

 

“Ugh. Rude.” Suga wrinkled his nose, taking the opportunity to wipe his hands on Daichi’s shirt. It may once have been white, but hey, at least now it looked far more interesting.

 

“Look who’s talking!” Daichi swiped his thumb across Suga’s forehead, and Suga giggled despite himself, hating yet loving the brief bubbling excitement in his stomach at the gesture.

 

“Okay, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m having a bath.” Kuroo shook his head, sending droplets of liquid flying from his hair.

 

“Oh, uh, I don’t think you are.” Daichi winced. “The bathtub is otherwise occupied.”

 

“Otherwise occupied…” Realisation dawned. “You put your goddamn fish in the bathtub?!”

 

“What, it wasn’t like I was expecting a food fight in my kitchen!”

 

Kuroo turned and stalked out. “I’m getting a frying pan and cooking your goddamn fish.”

 

Suga turned and raised an eyebrow at Daichi.

 

“Don’t give me that look. The sink was too small”

 

“Daichi, has anybody ever told you that you’re a little too attached to those fish?”

 

“I’ve had weirder things in my bathtub. Like Oikawa Tooru.”

 

“Oh, yes, how are your neighbours?”

 

“Loud.” Daichi grimaced. “Come on, you might as well help clean now that you’re…”

 

“All dirty?” Suga smirked. “Fine. But crutches aren’t going to get you out of anything. Grab that mop.”

 

The clean-up passed quickly with light conversation to distract from the drudgery. By mutual but unspoken consent they didn’t discuss Suga’s departure, but instead talked about the progress of wedding planning and Daichi’s return to work. The atmosphere did wonders for Suga’s strained mind, no matter how many potholes they had to steer around to achieve it.

 

Cleaning sped up even further when Kuroo returned, freshly clothed and towelling off his hair. If Daichi’s basin was too small for two fish, God only knew how Kuroo had managed to wash his hair without committing fish-related murder. Suga decided not to ask.

 

Daichi produced a thick sweater for Suga to borrow which he exchanged for his own strawberry-splattered shirt. He tugged the sleeves down over his hands, basking in the loose-fitting comfort of thick wool which smelled of a very familiar brand of aftershave. When Daichi’s back was turned he pulled the fabric up over his nose, just for a second, and inhaled deeply, rubbing the material between his fingers. Daichi turned back towards him and Suga yanked the jumper back down, smiling at him in an attempt to hide his guilt. Daichi returned the smile despite looking vaguely puzzled before retreating to his room to begin the gruelling task of getting changed while in a cast.

 

Suga collapsed onto the couch while he waited, crushing Kuroo’s legs beneath him.

 

“Ouch,” Kuroo whined.

 

“Your fault. Couch hog.” Suga shifted his weight, allowing Kuroo to pull his legs out of the way. Kuroo responded by splaying them over Suga’s lap, a petty show of revenge which Suga really should have expected.

 

“So,” Suga glanced over to check that the door to the hallway was closed before he began. “I was hoping we might get a chance to talk alone.”

 

The smirk slid from Kuroo’s face. “Yeah.”

 

“Your hands.” Suga turned himself to face Kuroo, keeping his body language as open as possible. “It would help if you could tell me what you can, but if it makes you uncomfortable I’ll understand. What with keeping it from Daichi and all.”

 

“No, no.” Kuroo flexed his hands open and closed, brow furrowed. “I don’t… Daichi has enough to deal with as it is, I don’t want to add anything else.” His eyes flicked up to Suga before returning to his hands, but there was nothing accusatory in his glance. “I can’t remember when I first noticed it. But when it gets really bad, I can’t… I can’t stop it. All the internet results talked about PTSD and shit, but… that can’t be it, can it?”

 

 “What makes you say that?”

 

“Well…” Kuroo wrung his hands together. “How can I be traumatised by things I can’t remember? It doesn’t make sense.”

 

“Our minds and bodies work in mysterious ways. Take it from a doctor.”

 

“So you think that it _is_ PTSD?”

 

“Well, that’s not the only thing it could be, but considering your circumstances it’s likely.”

 

Kuroo turned his head away, arms crossed over his chest. It was clearly not the diagnosis he had been hoping for. “I guess that means there’s no magic pill to make it stop.”

 

“There rarely is.” Suga gave Kuroo a comforting pat. “But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to be done.”

 

"Mm.” Kuroo picked at the red couch cover for a few moments before falling still. “Actually… I did notice something weird the other night. Kenma came over with the cat and it stopped for ages.”

 

“Oh. Interesting.” Suga rubbed at his chin.

 

“Please don’t look at me like I’m the subject of your next research paper.”

 

“I am not! Although, now that you mention it, there are a good few studies about animal therapy in treatment of PTSD. You should spend more time with your cat and see if it makes a difference. Spending more time with Kenma won’t hurt, either.”

 

“What’s this about Kenma?” Daichi entered, wearing a loose-fitting red plaid shirt which he had rolled up to his elbows (oh, those forearms did funny things to Suga’s stomach) and a smirk. “Is this about your little epiphany, Kuroo?”

 

“Epiphany?” Suga turned back to Kuroo, who pulled a pillow over his face with a groan and a muffled curse.

 

Daichi snorted, balancing on the couch’s armrest and leaning against Suga for support. “In a surprising turn of affairs, Kuroo has developed a crush on his own damn boyfriend.”

 

Kuroo groaned into the pillow.

 

“Well that’s a plot twist.” Suga’s smirk mirrored Daichi’s. “Attraction to the guy you date? Who on earth would have expected that?”

 

“I hate you two.” Kuroo lobbed the pillow at them, but they both ducked in one fluid motion. The movement was enough to disturb Daichi’s balance, and Suga grabbed him by his arm to steady him. Daichi looked down at the contact between them and Suga removed his hand, blushing, while Daichi muttered a thanks.

 

 “I don’t think we’re dating, anyway,” Kuroo continued, cheeks still flushed. “Considering.”

 

Suga watched as Kuroo shoved his hands into his pockets, out of sight of Daichi.

 

“That reminds me.” Suga picked up his satchel from where he had dropped it on the floor. He pulled out a pair of knitting needles and a green ball of wool. “Kuroo’s going to learn to knit.”

 

“What?” Kuroo eyed up the needles as though expecting Suga to stab him with them. Daichi simply laughed until Suga fixed him with a disapproving frown.

 

“Yes. I think it’ll do you good.” He gave Kuroo’s hands, still visibly in motion despite being thrust inside the pouch of his battered red hoodie, a pointed look. Kuroo’s eyes widened with understanding.

 

“Oh, right. Might keep me busy.” Despite his agreement, the mistrust with which he regarded the needles didn’t lessen.

 

Daichi chortled again, and Suga turned to fix him with another look. “I can teach you as well if you’d like, Daichi.”

 

“Oh, no thanks.” Daichi coughed, suddenly quite sober. “I’ll just, ah, make us all drinks while you two get set up.” 

 

“So this will help with…?” Kuroo whispered, ignoring the chuckles that reached them from the kitchen.

 

“Worth a shot. Plus, needles make excellent weapons. If anybody is particularly rude.” He glanced in the direction of the kitchen.

 

“Heh.” Kuroo took one and jabbed it experimentally. “Hey. Is that a piece of food on it?”

 

Suga took the needle back and wiped it on the sleeve of Daichi’s jumper. “You’re imagining things. Sit up, I can start showing you the basics.”

 

When Daichi stuck his head around the door to ask for help with carrying the drinks, Kuroo was already picking his way through his first wobbly row of stitches. Suga left Kuroo entangled in threads of green, and when he returned to set a mug of hot chocolate in front of Kuroo he didn’t look up, captivated by the mechanics of pulling one loop through another.

 

“Having fun?”

 

Kuroo rumbled some sort of agreement with no real thought behind it. Daichi sunk down into what had been Suga’s place, leaning over to watch. “Wow. That looks terrible.”

 

“Do a better job then.” Kuroo cursed as one of the loops slipped between his needles. “Stop putting me off, it's going to have a hole now!”

 

“It's never too late to learn, Daichi.” Suga folded his arms. “I was sitting there, you know.”

 

“You _were_.” Daichi smirked. “And then you got up.”

 

“Serves me right for helping you.” Suga squished himself into the narrow place between the pair, taking extra care to elbow Daichi in the side.

 

“Quit it, quit it, quit it! You’re making me wobble!” Kuroo rolled sideways in alarm, clasping the needles to his chest. They settled into a moment of peace while Kuroo clicked away under Suga’s supervision, muttering the occasional curse under his breath. 

 

“So you’ve seen Kenma recently.” Suga’s words brought Kuroo’s needles to a momentary halt. He grunted an affirmation before resuming.

 

“Good. Because, speaking as a medical professional, I’m prescribing more Kenma time for you.” Suga held a hand up before Kuroo could object. “You need to do this, Kuroo. For the sake of your memory. I’m just asking you to meet with him a couple times a week, that’s all.”

 

Kuroo squinted at him. “To do what?”

 

“Whatever you want to.”

 

Kuroo fell silent for a long moment. At last, he held up his work. “I finished the row. Now what?” 

 

“You start the next one.”

 

“Oh.” Kuroo switched the needles around, running the thin line of fabric he had created between his fingers. “…If he agrees to it,” he mumbled under his breath.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“If Kenma agrees to it… then yes.”

 

Suga smiled. “He will.”

 

And, as it turned out, he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you look up the word "plot" in the dictionary there's just a picture of me flipping the bird.
> 
> Anyways this is the last chapter before we hit the final chunk of story. As mentioned, I've got a really important scene to add before I'm ready to start posting the big stuff, so if there's no update next week it's because I'm frantically trying to tie up loose plot ends and failing. Here's hoping that won't happen - we'll see. 
> 
> If anyone is interested the fruit smoothie explosion is roughly based on true events. And before you say anything, it wasn't my fault.
> 
> I hate blenders.


	22. The One With Recovery and Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled, "the beginning of the end"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rollerblades in a week late with sunshades and a pina colada* this has been a WEEK  
> anyway have some of whatever this is

The days began to slip by, slowly at first, but then quicker, like sand through an hourglass.

 

At first Kenma’s visits were stiff and awkward, but, little by little, he and Kuroo began to open up to each other again. After a few weeks of quiet, nervous encounters, Kuroo was gently persuaded to return to his home once more. As unthinkable as being with Kenma had once been, the more time he spent around him, well…

 

Kuroo could understand all too easily how he had fallen for him in the first place.

 

The distance was still there, and Kuroo wished he could find a way of explaining to Kenma that there was no need to keep tiptoeing around him, that he wasn’t going to have a breakdown if Kenma stood too close, let his gaze linger too long, glanced at him in the wrong way.

 

If anything, he was starting to enjoy it. He liked watching the effect he could have upon Kenma, the flicker of his eyes when Kuroo caught his attention. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but Kuroo couldn’t help himself. He wanted Kenma’s attention, and as much as Kenma tried to pretend otherwise, he was all too willing to give it. 

 

The more Kenma gave, the more Kuroo pushed. It started with little things. Finding a reason to wander into the kitchen in a towel post-shower and pretend to hunt for some imaginary missing article while Kenma stared down at whatever he was reading as if willing it to swallow him. Gently teasing, poking Kenma whenever he spent too long gazing blankly at his laptop, prodding until his nose wrinkled in irritation or he started stifling those snuffley little giggles that added years to Kuroo’s life every time he heard them. Taking little opportunities to move into Kenma’s space – always so careful, so ready to move back if Kenma showed any true discomfort – letting his chest bump against Kenma’s back as he reached over him to pull something from a cupboard, letting his head drop down on Kenma’s lap whenever he flopped down on the couch.

 

Often Kuroo wondered if Kenma was noting every action, matching it up against past experiences and tracking Kuroo’s progress as he walked himself down a path he was already all too familiar with. Yet Kenma never pushed back, only waited for Kuroo to come to him.

 

Then, one night, Kuroo presented Kenma with the best present he could think to give: a shitty, hole-ridden knobbly scarf of his own creation.

 

Kenma rubbed the material back and forth between his fingers, one eyebrow raised.

 

“You don’t have to wear it,” Kuroo added hurriedly, nerves mounting. “I just thought you might, you know, appreciate it, and take it as a thank you for dealing with – me, and everything. I can make you another when I get better, but after I’ve done one for Suga, I think I owe him for teaching me in the first place, and-”

 

His spiel was cut short when Kenma pressed himself in against Kuroo’s chest, arms wrapping around him and squeezing briefly before retreating. “You don’t need to thank me for anything.” Kenma’s voice was tight and muffled by Kuroo’s chest. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

 

“It’s also riddled with cat hair. _Someone_ kept sitting their furry ass down on it.”

 

“Inevitable. Everything we own is riddled with cat hair anyway.”

 

Kuroo laughed. From the kitchen, the fire alarm screamed into life.

 

"Shit, I left the pop tarts..." Kenma muttered as he span around and dashed towards the kitchen, nearly tripping on Altair who was bolting in the opposite direction. 

 

He didn’t notice Kuroo’s hands starting to shake at his sides, didn’t notice the glassy, panicked expression that flickered across his features. The world fell away into darkness and heat and Kuroo gagged as though his lungs were filling with smoke.

 

A few seconds later the fire alarm shut off, and the moment passed. Kenma reappeared, the blackened remains of his snack in hand. “Oops.”

 

Kuroo shook his head, tried to clear away the thoughts of… whatever that was. “My bad, I distracted you.”

 

Nonetheless, when Kuroo went to bed that night the flat still smelt distinctly of burning.

 

It was probably that more than anything that caused the nightmares.

 

He didn’t know he had been yelling until his door was being thrown open, light spilling into the darkened room as Kenma found him, terrified, drenched in sweat and thrashing as though he were tangled in flames instead of bedsheets.

 

When Kenma took Kuroo into his arms they were trembling even more than Kuroo’s were.

 

“Shit,” Kuroo whispered between wheezing breaths. “ _Shit_.” His hands spasmed as they tried to find purchase, gripping Kenma like a lifeline and pulling him close.

 

“Kuroo.” Kenma’s voice was muffled as he talked into Kuroo’s shoulder. “Kuroo, what happened?”  

 

It was some time before he could put words to it – several minutes of forcing air in and out of his lungs like he was learning to breathe for the first time, several minutes of gripping onto Kenma in the hope that the shaking would subside, several minutes of blinking away the dampness around his eyes. Yet even several minutes later when he looked into Kenma’s eyes he still couldn’t say it.

 

Kenma reached up to brush Kuroo’s his fringe away from his eyes. His fingers lingered at the side of Kuroo’s head, not quite touching but wavering in the space beside him, waiting.

 

“It burned,” Kuroo whispered. “It burned so bad.”

 

“You’re safe now. I promise.”

 

Kuroo reached up to take Kenma’s hand, thumb brushing over the knuckles as he guided it in against him, hating himself for asking so much and yet unable to stop himself. “Stay with me.” His eyes dropped down. “Please.”

 

Kenma didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

 

From then on, if Kuroo woke in the night, Kenma, true to his word, would be there at his side.

 

And, little by little, the memories returned.

 

***

News of Kuroo’s advancing recovery spread fast, news which gave Suga a much-needed lift from the constant sinking struggle that had been plaguing him. With Kuroo spending every available second readjusting to life at Kenma’s side, it was soon impossible to tell from the closest of observations that there had been any memory loss at all. The two were getting along like a house on fire – a pun which earned Suga more complaints than he had ever received in his life.

 

Kuroo’s return home, however, left a certain vacancy in Daichi’s flat, one which Suga was all too ready to fill. Even with Kuroo’s absence, Daichi, leg healed and cast at last removed, was far from being alone in his flat. Suga spent more time there than at his own place, finding reprieve in Daichi’s company for days and nights on end. In quieter moments he knew that the time they spent together would never be enough, that there was no way that Suga could leave satisfied with what they had had together. That didn’t stop him from taking everything he could.

 

Asahi and Noya’s wedding plans advanced at a rate that was near-dizzying, but if either of them showed anything other than excitement bordering on the ecstatic, Suga didn’t see it. Tanaka, recruited in a proposal almost as emotional and teary as that of the original, took the second opening for best man and alleviated a lot of the pressure weighing on Suga as he descended through the nine circles of wedding planning hell. 

 

And, of course, there was only one person with which Suga wanted to spend the spare time this development offered.

 

But as long as a month had seemed at first, it was no time at all until the day of the wedding was upon them.

 

Suga woke on the morning of the wedding feeling likely more nervous than both the grooms combined. Aside from the stress of organising, let alone pulling off, such an event, and sorting his own move to boot, there was another reason for the swirling, twisting panic in his stomach.

 

The wedding was today and he was leaving tomorrow, in the early hours of the morning. Today would be the last time he saw them all before he left.

 

He turned his head to look into the chocolate-brown eyes of one of those to whom he was soon to bid farewell.

 

Daichi’s lower body lay swaddled in bedsheets, the upper part of his chest exposed. Arms resting behind his head, his smile grew under Suga’s gaze, gentle but bittersweet. His thoughts cast shadows behind his eyes, and Suga could see that they matched his own.

 

True to both of their private vows, neither of them had done, said, or confessed anything to each other. They shared a bed only because Noya was staying over on Daichi’s couch and for no other reason. Both he and Asahi were unwilling to risk seeing each other before the big moment, both being strong contenders for the most superstitious people Suga knew.

 

Suga returned Daichi’s smile, eyes wandering for a moment over his jawline which had grown rough with stubble overnight. Every day they spent together, it seemed, the vows they had each made to themselves to remain distant had weakened. Both had noticed – but neither would admit – the way they let their knees rest together when sat next to each other, the barest, softest contact but to call it small or innocent would be a lie. It was a push, a push against a boundary that couldn’t be broken. Knowing this made the small slither of heat that crept from body to body tingle all the more, but Suga couldn’t bring himself to draw the line. The harm had been done.

 

Yet a terrible, treacherous part of him wondered if maybe they should have broken through the barrier, made the most from their remaining time together. Maybe it would have been worth the risk.

 

That _maybe_ would haunt Suga for the rest of his life. Now he wouldn’t even have the memories. Just dreams of what might have been.

 

 Daichi shifted his weight and sat up, legs hanging over the side of the bed. He turned that sad smile back on Suga, looking as if he were about to speak, and for an insane second Suga wondered if he had been following Suga’s thoughts.

 

Whatever thought he had was interrupted when the door to their room slammed open. Noya burst in and jumped up onto the bed. He stood unsteadily over them, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, arms thrown up in the air and grinning from ear to ear.

 

“ _Guys_ ,” he breathed. “ _Today’s the day!_ ”

 

_Yes_ , Suga thought grimly. _It is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sahfcjhjdhckjhdcakjhcf why did I try to add extra stuff I'm sorry
> 
> Coming next week: A wedding, obviously.


	23. The One With the Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy couples. Happy couples everywhere.   
> It's like they're conspiring against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If possible I recommend listening to "So Close" by Jon McLaughlin during the dancing scene.  
> I had it on repeat while writing and... let's just say things got emotional. 
> 
> Alcohol tw.

Kuroo fidgeted with his bowtie as he examined his reflection in the mirror before him. No matter what he did, it simply wouldn’t lie straight.

 

A pair of hands appeared at his shoulders, snaking around his neck to tweak the necktie into place before smoothing down his collar.

 

Kuroo snorted. “Are you standing on your tiptoes to do that?”

 

He received a poke in the cheek for his trouble. He snorted again and spun around, and Kenma’s light touch dropped from Kuroo’s shoulders to his hands, which he took with a warm squeeze.

 

“You look great,” Kenma said, before turning his head away, as if wishing to pretend he hadn’t said anything.

 

Kuroo smiled, and the impulse that had been plaguing him for weeks burned and licked its way up his throat like fire.

 

It would have been so easy, so natural, to reply with _I Love You_. Because he did, in a secret which fizzed under his skin and bubbled up in his mind in the most innocent of moments – _I love you, I love you, I love you –_ but he wasn’t sure if Kenma was ready for it yet. Hell, he wasn’t sure _he_ was.

 

But he had done it before, they both had, even if it had been in the most cataclysmic way imaginable. With every day that passed more memories drifted back to the surface – nothing to write home about individually, but when pieced together the jigsaw of Kuroo’s past life took shape. But a disconnect lingered, and Kuroo looked back on that part of his life as though it had been lived by another person. He was no longer that man, nor was he the man he had been before his memories began to return. He toed a border between the two, grown, changed, different. His past did not belong to him.

 

But maybe that was how it was for everyone. 

 

So instead of speaking his mouth twitched into an awkward grin which earned him a raised eyebrow and the shake of a head.

 

“We’re going to be late,” said Kenma, wrinkling his nose.

 

“No we’re not.” Kuroo replied, and when he swooped down to press his smile onto Kenma’s lips he heard no further objections.

 

***

 

The service was small, nothing too extravagant, yet it felt as though everyone Suga knew was there. Familiar faces from the practice leapt out at him – Tadeka, Kageyama and Hinata among them – as well as Asahi’s entire family, from the oldest aunt to the youngest nieces and nephews.

 

Crowded into the hall with a hundred different conversations bouncing from the walls the room felt full enough to burst. But when the grooms entered at last, hand in hand and smiling from ear to ear, a hush fell as if a blanket had dropped over the crowd.

 

And then the wedding began.

 

***

 

“So who’s your money on, Daichi?” Kuroo whispered.

 

“Huh?” he replied, turning his head to better hear Kuroo in the row behind him.

 

“First to cry. Odds are five to one in favour of Asahi. You in?”

 

Daichi raised an eyebrow. Before him, the officiant was making her opening remarks. Tanaka and Suga stood at either side of the couple, smartly dressed in black suits. “You’re doing this now? _Really_?”

 

“Come on man, in or out?”

 

His continued questioning earned him a glare from Daichi. “What does Kenma have to say about this?”

 

Kuroo smirked. “His money’s on Noya. Sucker.”

 

“Am not,” objected a quiet voice beside him.

 

“Shut up, I’m trying to screw Daichi out of some money. So, you in?”

 

“Fine. If it’ll get you off my back, my money’s on Tanaka. Unless he finds out about this, in which case I was never involved.”

 

“Agreed.” Kuroo winked, and Kenma snorted at the heavy side-eyeing Daichi sent in his direction.

 

Daichi turned to face forwards again just as the officiant’s speech drew to a close. The officiant – a smirking blonde woman who looked and sounded far too much like Tanaka to be anyone but his sister – invited Asahi and Noya to take their vows with a grin that matched her brother’s.

 

And just like that, they were married.

 

  ***

 

The trilling of cutlery against glass rose over the hubbub of conversation which faded under Asahi’s imposing frame.

 

“So, Noya and I flipped a coin for the first to do their speech and… Well, I’m here!” He laughed nervously, and there were a few titters from the crowd. Asahi shuffled his notecards from hand to hand - notecards for a speech Suga had watched him work tirelessly on for day after day. But then he looked up from them, looked instead into Noya’s awaiting eyes, and the nerves drained from his body like water down a plug hole. “Yuu. I… I never thought I'd be lucky enough to be standing here before you as your husband. I could never have imagined that it was possible to be this happy. But I am, and it's you I have to thank for that. You're… the sun to my sky and the compass to my map and… A billion other cliché metaphors that I'm not ashamed to say, because they're true, every one of them. You are, and always have been, my strength. I could never say how proud I am to be your husband.” Asahi raised his glass. “To Yuu.” His toast was echoed through the room, and when the eyes of the guests turned to Noya they found him on his feet with tears pouring down his cheeks.

 

Wordlessly, he embraced him.

 

The rustle of money exchanging hands drew Suga’s eye as Daichi and Kuroo emptied their wallets into Kenma’s hands with expressions of defeat.

 

Suga decided he didn’t want to know.

 

A short intermission gave Noya the time he needed to recover. On his feet once again, the chime of cutlery on glass rang out through the warm, bunting-decked hall.

 

“So,” Noya cleared his throat, voice still rough. “Tough act to follow.” A few chuckles. His eyes roamed the hall, settling on each face for a fraction of a second before moving to the next. He clasped his hands together – unlike Asahi, he had no cue cards. “I’d like to start by thanking you all for being here today. Even if you just came for the booze.” More laughter, and a cheer from Tanaka. “Looking around, I see many faces I know and love.” On the word _love_ his eyes glanced down to Asahi, before returning to the audience. “But just as many that I maybe don’t know so well yet.” He took a deep breath, glancing down to shuffle his feet for a moment before straightening once more. “I’m going to let you all in on a secret. There was only one thing about today which scared me. It was never, for one second, marrying Asahi. I think I’ve been ready for that from the second I met him.” A nervous smile. “It was that I wouldn’t have a family here with me. I wouldn’t have a family to welcome the man I love into. But standing here, today, I’ve come to an important realisation, maybe the most important I’ll ever make.” He turned to Asahi. “Your family is your choice. And I don’t need to worry about mine, because it’s right here with me. I choose you, Asahi, every time.”

     

The following bear-hug was so strong Noya was lifted bodily off his feet and into the air, and soon the pair were joined by Tanaka, also sobbing between proclamations of “official bro-ship” and “man, I love you guys, I just… _I love you guys._ ” and then before he knew it, Suga too was pulled into the fray.

 

“Come on, Suga. You’re part of this family. No matter what side of the world you end up on.”

 

Suddenly Suga was very glad to find his face buried in a wriggling mass of friends, because, as sappy as he was, crying in front of every person he knew really _wasn’t_ high on his to-do list.

 

He didn’t want to let go.

 

***

 

It had been over an hour since Daichi had encountered anyone who was completely sober. It was more or less on par with every other wedding he had experienced.

 

The reception was being held in a beautiful hall with tall windows and an elevated platform at one end. Now the tables had been pushed aside to make room for a DJ setup, and a disco ball showered the darkening room in a confetti of sparkles.

 

A lot of people wanted to dance; Daichi was not one of them. He settled himself into a quiet corner and watched. Kuroo clearly knew what he was doing, judging from the ease with which he rolled to the rhythm. Kenma made for an interesting contrast in his arms, staring at the floor in deep concentration as he awkwardly shuffled his feet to and fro. Every few minutes Kuroo would wince and yelp, indicating that one of Kenma’s feet had landed somewhere painful. As time went on and the music slowed they settled to a gentle sway, arms around each other’s waists and Kuroo’s chin resting on Kenma’s head. He vaguely recognised two of Suga’s neighbours, not dancing but sitting at one of the pushed-aside tables, their knees touching. The one with the freckles was whispering to the other, and every so often they’d snigger in unison. Tanaka could be seen pulling a dark-haired man Daichi didn’t recognise from one end of the room to the other, and it was hard to tell if his blush could be attributed to the alcohol or to Tanaka’s refusal to let go of his hand. In fact, the only couple not in Daichi’s direct eye-line were the newlyweds themselves – but only because they had surreptitiously crept out for a few minutes of alone time doing he-didn’t-even-want-to-know what.

 

The universe had conspired to surround him with happy couples.

 

Something crashed into his leg beneath the table. Daichi yelped, drawing several curious glances. Shifting his still-delicate leg from the path of further harm, he bent over and lifted the tablecloth.

 

“Hinata, what the hell are you doing under there?!”

 

A pair of panicked brown eyes looked up at him. “Um?”

 

He seized Hinata by the ear and pulled him from beneath the table.

 

“Ow, no, come on, I need to go back under there-!”

 

“I assure you, you don’t.” Daichi forced him into one of the seats as teacher-mode sprang reflexively into action. “Now, would you care to explain yourself…?”

 

“I’m hiding,” Hinata hissed. His eyes darted around the room like that of a gazelle in an open field.

 

Daichi sighed. “From?”

 

“Kageyama!”

 

Daichi frowned. The name rang a bell. “Isn’t that the nurse you like?”

 

“Sssh!” Hinata yelped. He checked over his shoulder as if expecting to find that they were surrounded by spies and eavesdroppers. “No! Well, I mean, yeah. But keep quiet about it! I need to make sure he doesn’t see me.”

 

“I don’t think hiding from him will help you get a date with him.”

 

“That’s not what I’m – Ah, crap, okay, I can explain. I went to Noya from advice, because, you know, he’s so great with this relationship stuff! So we came up with a plan…”

 

“Stop right there,” Daichi interrupted. The words _Noya_ and _Plan_ in the same sentence alone were by now enough to strike fear deep into his heart. “I’m going to give you an important piece of advice that may, at some point, save your life: never _ever_ let Noya involve you in one of his “plans”. Understood?” The gravity in Daichi’s voice struck a chord, and Hinata nodded his head vigorously with fear in his eyes. “You may continue,” Daichi added after a pause.

 

Hinata cleared his throat. “So, uh, Noya suggested that I should tell Kageyama I was coming with a hot date. To, uh, make him jealous. So… I told him about the date I was bringing, and he looked really pissed off, it was kinda funny actually, except…”

 

“Let me guess. You couldn’t get a date.”

 

“…basically.”

 

Daichi pinched the bridge of his nose. Hinata was possibly the only person left on the planet who had a more ridiculous dating life than he did.

 

“Well, Hinata. Normally I would be a lot more sympathetic. But not tonight. Just, not tonight.” He leaned in close. “Important life advice part two. Don’t waste your time hiding and pretending and lying to the person you like. Don’t risk losing them because you were too scared, because you waited too long. Don’t do that to yourself.”

 

“Uh.” Hinata leaned away from Daichi. “That’s, uh, intense. Have you been drinking a lot?”

 

Daichi gave him a flat look. “Yes. But I’m still right.”

 

“Right. Okay. Cool. Just checking.” He paused. “Thanks, Daichi.”

 

“Just go and ask him to dance. That’s all you need to do.”

 

Hinata gave him another odd look, but climbed to his feet all the same, nodding soberly before weaving away through the dancing couples. Soon he was out of sight.

 

A few minutes later he spotted Noya and Asahi creeping sheepishly back into the room, both giggling.

 

Daichi served himself another drink.

 

He didn’t want to resent them. He didn’t want to be sitting alone in the shadows on the edge of the dancefloor, increasingly tipsy as the night wore on and trying to fight back the envy and the self-pity that threatened to consume him.

 

More than anything, he wanted to be with Suga.

 

He downed the drink.

 

***

 

Suga had danced with nearly every man, woman and unbelievably adorable child in the room, and he was nowhere near done yet.

 

"HINATA!" Suga giggled far too loudly. "We haven't danced yet." He grabbed Hinata’s hand before it could pass out of reach and yanked it towards him.

 

Hinata yelped. “But, uh, I’m kind of-!”

 

“Aw come on, I love this song! I mean, I don’t know what song it is. And I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before. But I’m sure I love it!”

 

“-busy, Suga, I need to find Kageyama!”

 

“Ssh.” Suga forced Hinata’s shoulders into a jerky sway with one hand, the other engaged in a mix head pats and hair ruffles. “Let me dance with my tiny little secretary. I’m going to miss you, Hinata, you know? I’m going to miss all of you.” Was his voice choking up? Oh God, he needed to be stopped. Stupid, stupid alcohol-induced emotion-talk.

 

“I.” Hinata flushed read. “I’m not that small!”

 

“So tiny! Teensy-weensy!” Suga’s own words brought on a fit of giggles, and they had to take a pause from the awkward swaying while Suga clamped a hand over his mouth to cut them off.

 

“You’re not even that tall,” Hinata grumbled. “Suga, _please_ let go of me. I need to find Kageyama.”

 

“Ah, ah! Young love! Why didn’t you say so?!” Suga grinned, releasing his grip.

 

“It’s not – We’re not – I just need to, aargh, you’re being so embarrassing!”

 

Suga gave Hinata’s hair one more ruffle for good measure. “Sure, sure. Good luck, Hinata.”

 

“Maybe,” Hinata began, then hesitated. “Maybe you should ask Daichi to dance with you.”

 

Suga stared. Earlier, it had seemed a bad idea, a _really_ bad idea. Countless glasses of champagne later… not so much. He broke into yet another smile. “Yes. Yes, thanks, I’ll do that!”

 

Hinata shook his head in – was it exasperation? But a moment later his face collapsed into all-out panic, and moments later Suga realised why when he turned to find Kageyama looming at his shoulder, brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“When you said you were coming with a hot date-?”

 

“No! No, it’s not, I mean, no, Suga just – Suga’s not my date.” Hinata spluttered.

 

“Then,” Kageyama began, his voice low and gravelly, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. “Who is?”

 

For a moment Hinata stood paralysed. Determination sparked into life behind his eyes, then an idea. He held out his hand. “You.”

 

Kageyama stared at the hand as if he’d never seen one before. “Huh?”

 

“You, you’re my date,” Hinata mumbled. “I mean, if you want to be.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Don’t just say “oh”, dumbass, you have to actually-!” Hinata’s words were cut short when Kageyama took his hand.

 

“Okay.”

 

They smiled at each other.

 

“Ah,” Suga said dreamily. “You two are cute.”

 

They both turned to look at him.

 

“Oh, yeah.” Suga coughed. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He gave them each a clumsy pat on the shoulder before turning and heading away from the dance floor.

 

He needed to find Daichi. 

 

***

 

_…more than anything, he wanted to be with Suga._

 

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind then, as if by divine intervention, Suga stood before him. Maybe the Gods and angels and who knew what else had finally taken pity on him. Maybe Suga _was_ an angel.

 

If he was, he was a tipsy one.

 

“You’re drunk,” Daichi observed.

 

“As are you,” Suga retorted. He tried to scrunch up his nose in distaste, but it quickly melted into a giggle.

 

Daichi shook his head. “Suga.”

 

“Ssh.” Suga put a hand on Daichi’s shoulder, as much to steady himself as it was to make a point. “Not tonight. Not the last night, not _our_ last night. I don’t want to talk.”

 

A shiver ran down Daichi’s spine. “Then what do you want?” Behind Suga he could see Kageyama and Hinata. They were holding hands as they shuffled from foot to foot, foreheads almost touching.

 

“I want to dance.”

 

A spell settled across the room, and for the second time that evening Daichi wondered if divine intervention was to blame. Music, movement, even time slowed to a crawl.

 

The lights dimmed. Daichi stood.

 

“Then let’s dance.” He took Suga’s hand, and together they stepped onto the dancefloor.

 

If their lives were a romantic film they would have swept and twirled through the room like… well, characters in a romantic film. A spotlight would have materialised just to follow their path across the floor and dazzled onlookers would clear the way before them, standing back to watch with awe.

 

In reality both of them were just on the wrong side of tipsy to be trying anything more complicated than a gentle sway, elbowing more people than they could count on the crowded dance floor including, occasionally, each other.

 

But then the music swelled around them and Suga’s hands wrapped around his waist, the crowd forcing them to press in against each other.

 

Maybe it could have been a movie after all.

 

Suga’s head sank and came to a rest on Daichi’s shoulder, his breath brushing across the skin of Daichi’s neck. Their feet were barely moving; they stood static in the midst of their dancing friends and held each other.

 

It was all Daichi had wished for. It wasn’t enough.

 

The music ended, the night along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VOTE TIME  
> Next update (mild, vague spoiler alert) I'm considering posting a chapter featuring a (fairly tame so don't get excited) smut scene.  
> I'm really struggling to decide whether I should keep it in or write around it. Pros are: it makes sense in the fic, people will probably enjoy it and it feels only fitting in a lot of ways which are difficult to articulate. Cons: I've never posted this kind of stuff before, it might be terrible, I'm very easily embarrassed, etc etc.  
> Anyway, I decided to put it into your hands, beloved readers, as, at the end of the day, it's you guys I'm writing for.  
> PLS VOTE YES IF YOU WANT THE SMUT OR NO IF YOU DON'T  
> and I'll decide that way (unless I have a sudden impulse one way or the other which is unlikely but aNYWAY)
> 
> On a related note, does anyone know the difference between M and E ratings bc I sure friggin don't
> 
> Also if you happen to know me irl and ever mention this to me or anyone else I will be very, very uncomfortable so please dOnT
> 
> Anyways, hope u enjoyed this nonsense. Tune in again next week for more!


	24. The One Where Daichi and Suga... You Know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One night can change a lot...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand, somewhat predictably, the vote for more *mature* scenes was a near-unanimous yes.
> 
> I made... an attempt. An attempt was certainly a thing that was made here. Don't say I didn't warn you.
> 
> If you would rather avoid such scenes, skip the section between the second and third set of asterixis and you'll be fine.
> 
> Well. Here we go.

Suga’s send-off was more emotional than even he had expected. Everyone close to him had gathered in the parking lot to make their last goodbyes, shivering a little and occasionally glancing up at the scattering of stars in the sky above. One by one, they began to say their goodbyes.

 

Kuro pulled him into a hug that was tight enough to suffocate, and thrust a package into his hands with a sheepish grin.

 

“What’s this?!” Suga grinned as he pulled the paper away with shaky hands.

 

“A thank you. For everything.”

 

The paper fell away to reveal a wobbly purple scarf. “Oh my God, you made this for me?”

 

Kuroo waved his hand in an it-was-nothing gesture that failed to distract from the flush in his cheeks. “It’s not that great.”

 

“It’s _perfect_ ,” Suga breathed, and he grabbed Kuroo and pulled him into yet another bone-cracking hug.

 

“I, um,” Kenma began when Suga turned to him. “I should have gotten you something too, I…” His voice cracked, Suga’s heart along with it. “You’ve done so much for us…”

 

“Oh no, Kenma, really, I didn’t…” Suga couldn’t trust himself to finish the sentence and opted instead for another bout of hugging. Kenma’s body stiffened for a moment before he relaxed into the embrace.

 

He didn’t even have to open his mouth to Tanaka; tears were already pouring down his face as he stood waiting for his turn.

 

“Tanaka,” Suga began.

 

Tanaka pulled him in before he had a chance to continue, the force of it enough to lift Suga from his feet. Neither of them were able to speak, but when he let go of Suga at last he finished with, for whatever reason, a salute. Suga returned it without question. 

 

Kageyama and Hinata awaited, holding hands so tightly their knuckles were white.

 

“Now.” Suga fixed them with the sternest look he could muster. “Are you both going to behave for Asahi?” They nodded vigorously, and Suga’s smile resurfaced once more. “Good. I’m trusting you both to keep the practice running smoothly. And if there’s any more trouble, I’m a phone call away.”

 

Kageyama nodded again, and Hinata sprang towards him. Suga caught him and swung him around with a chuckle. “Hey, you too, kiddo.” He pulled Kageyama in and despite his alarm a wobbly smile stole across his face.

 

“No hug, please,” Tsukishima said bluntly as Suga turned to him and Yamaguchi, taking a step back for good measure.

 

“Speak for yourself,” Yamaguchi grinned sheepishly, and Suga pulled him in with a chuckle.

 

“And before I forget,” Suga said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket with a sniff. “I believe I promised you this.”

 

Tsukishima took the paper, unfolded it and read aloud the title. “Strawberry shortcake recipe.”

 

Everyone giggled, and Tsukishima’s cheeks reddened. “Thanks,” he said as he carefully refolded it and slipped it into his pocket, taking a moment to shoot a still-chortling Tanaka a glare. He paused for a moment. “I still don’t want a hug.” Yamaguchi nudged him, and he scowled at the floor. “...a hair ruffle would be acceptable, however.”

 

Suga laughed again, obliging so enthusiastically that he knocked Tsukishima’s glasses askew.

 

“Never change, Tsukishima. Yamaguchi, I want you to know that Noya and Asahi will be renting my house now that I’m not using it. They’re not breaking into it, and there’s no need to attack them with a baseball bat. Again.”

 

Several chuckles from onlookers; Yamaguchi blushed sheepishly and mouthed sorry at Asahi, who smiled good-naturedly… if a little nervously.

 

And it was Asahi he turned to next, Noya’s hand on his arm.      

  

“Guys,” Suga began, and of _course_ his voice couldn’t get through that one syllable without cracking.

 

“Aw, no, Suga, don’t…” Noya began to sniff. Asahi produced a handkerchief from the depths of his pockets and handed it to Noya. “C’mon, man, can’t you save it for tomorrow?”

 

He couldn’t. Suga embraced them, squeezing so hard he worried for a second they might choke.

 

“You – You’ll always have a home with us, Suga,” Asahi stammered between the chocked noises that escaped from his throat. 

 

“Yeah, I meant what I said earlier,” said Noya, his voice muffled from being pressed into Suga’s shoulder. “You’re my family. Specifically my worrisome surrogate mother half the time, but…” He paused to hiccup. “Family means forever. So you’re going to call, and write, and send us a billion postcards from all the cool places you’re going to see. Deal?”

 

“Deal,” Suga agreed, giving the pair of them one last squeeze for good measure. He breathed, took a moment to memorise every detail of the moment; the warmth of their bodies against his, the stars in the sky above, the snuffling half-chuckle half-sob Noya couldn’t hold back… and then he let go.

 

“Get going.” Suga gestured to the car which awaited them. “I’ll be seeing you in the morning before I leave, remember?”

 

One last hug, because none of them could resist. The car rolled away, both of them waving and yelling through the windows, and then they were gone from sight. There was a second round of hugs as, one by one, his friends and neighbours dispersed in the direction of cars and bus stops.

 

He watched the back of every receding head with a heart that grew heavier with every exit.

 

The last to vanish were Kuroo and Kenma. They stopped on the corner for a moment, waved one last time, and were gone.

 

Suga stood in the cold, empty parking lot and shivered as a breeze curled around him.

 

“Are you still there?” He tilted his head back to study the sky. Clouds crept in from the west, blocking out the glimmers of distant stars one by one.

 

"Of course," Daichi replied. He stepped out from the shadows and took his place at Suga’s side, illuminated by the glow of streetlights.

 

Suga sighed. "I don't want to do this."

 

Daichi remained silent.

 

“I mean, when I imagined this I was…sober, at least. Although in retrospect I don’t know if that would make it easier or harder.”

 

“Ditto.”

 

“I had a whole bunch of things I wanted to say. I’ve gone and forgotten every last one.” He fingered at the fabric of Kuroo’s hand-knitted scarf.

 

“Ditto again.” Daichi fidgeted with something in his pocket. “But…I do have a parting gift for you.”

 

“Daichi, you shouldn’t have,” Suga said, shaking his head.

 

“Don’t get too excited, it’s nothing big. It’s mostly sentimental. Well, it is for me, anyway. So, um…” He pulled something from his pocket small enough to be held in the palm of his hand. “I want you to have this. In case you ever want to use it if, you know, you happen to be in the area…”

 

Suga held his hand out and into it Daichi dropped a small, silver key.

 

“The… The key to your apartment.”

 

Daichi reddened, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I know I used to complain about every friend and neighbour I gave one to barging in and starting drama in my living room every five minutes. Kind of my own fault for handing so many keys out, really. But I would never be sorry to have you barging into my flat unannounced. I mean, what I’m trying to say is…you know. Don’t be a stranger.”

 

The last hug Suga would deliver that evening was the most bittersweet of all.

 

They held each other tightly, Suga’s hands fisting into the fabric of Daichi’s suit while he inhaled the familiar scent of aftershave. Daichi’s arms circled Suga, a familiar and comforting presence. They pulled apart a little, still holding each other in their arms.

 

_We could kiss, now_. A part of Suga’s mind piped up. Admittedly a somewhat inebriated part. _We could kiss right now, and the world would keep on turning. He’s drunk, I’m drunk, we both love each other and we both know it. We could kiss, and it wouldn’t make a difference because you can’t keep digging a hole once you’ve hit the good ol’ rock bottom. And I think we both hit that rocky seam a very long time ago. We could kiss right now and it wouldn’t matter at all. The damage has been done._

 

His eyes met Daichi’s. In those deep brown depths he found assurance that Daichi was echoing his exact thoughts.

Another chilling breeze whipped through the car park. In Daichi’s arms, Suga barely felt it.

 

Daichi’s eyes dropped to his lips, his breath ghosting across Suga’s skin.

 

He moved forward.

 

Their lips almost met.

 

And Suga moved back.

 

He watched as Daichi’s heart broke. It was an expression he wished he were less familiar with.

 

“I’m sorry,” Suga whispered. As apologies went, it was pretty lame.

 

“I understand,” Daichi said, eyes dropping away from Suga’s. Suga didn’t doubt it.

 

Suga took Daichi's hand in his. He smiled. “You haven’t seen the last of me.”

 

Daichi returned the smile, voice cracking. “Is that a promise?”

 

“It’s a promise.” Suga squeezed Daichi’s hand. Then, at last, he let go.

 

He turned, started walking, and didn’t look back. Looking back would break him, so he kept his eyes trained ahead.

 

“Suga!”

 

Suga’s feet stumbled to a halt. “Yes?”

 

“Good luck.”

 

Suga smiled. He raised his hand to wave a goodbye. Then he turned the corner and was gone.

 

***

 

 Daichi’s tread was slower, heavier than usual as he pulled himself up the final set of stairs to his apartment. His footsteps echoed loudly as they bounced off the corridor walls with more energy than Daichi ever expected to have again. He felt physically, emotionally, and somehow literally drained, as if someone had pulled the plug on his life force and let it flow away into nothing.

 

He mustered the energy to pull off a few layers of wedding attire before collapsing into his bed. His phone pinged with a message from Kuroo – an offer of company from him and Kenma if Daichi felt he happened to be in need of it, tonight of all nights – but the message went ignored. No energy to muster up a reply. Certainly not one that would leave Kuroo any less concerned than he already was.

 

Daichi’s last chance had stared him in the face, and he had missed it.

 

He fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.  

 

***

 

The sound of a door opening and closing echoed through the silent apartment. Daichi blinked once, twice, and picked up his phone. He squinted at the illuminated display, which read _3:13am._

 

He climbed out of bed, rubbing his eyes. In times gone by, mysterious arrivals in the dead of night would have had Daichi arming himself with the nearest baseball bat and dialling for the police. Nowadays he was more likely to resign himself to the idiocy of whatever nonsense one of his so-called friends had undoubtedly brought for him like a cat dragging home a mutilated rodent.

 

He pulled his bedroom door. “Whatever this is, there better be a damn good reason-!”

 

Suga blinked at him, eyes wide shimmering in the dim light. “I…I forgot my coat.”

 

"Oh. Right."

 

For a moment they stared at each other as every moment they had shared and every emotion they had ignored suddenly surged, violent and inescapable like a tsunami, and as their chests rose and fell in unsteady motions the tension that had built and built and built between them pulled taunt…and snapped.

 

Daichi’s back hit the bedroom door which had swung shut behind him at the same time that Suga’s lips pressed against his mouth, hot as the blood in his veins. A full-body shudder rocked through Daichi’s limbs and sent his breath shaking from his lungs as he pressed back against Suga, who groaned into his mouth with a desperation Daichi hadn’t thought possible.

 

The door swung open under their weight and they stumbled backwards into Daichi’s bedroom, Suga’s fingers slipping under the hem of Daichi’s shirt and raking across his back. The back of Daichi’s knees slammed into the bed and buckled, and he dropped down with a yelp that was less dignified than he cared to admit. Suga chuckled, hands running over Daichi’s shoulders and up to cup his face.

 

“Wait.” Daichi caught Suga’s hands in his, and Suga stilled. “Are – Are you sure?”

 

Suga’s eyes met his. “I’ve been sure from the moment I met you.”

 

“I’m still a bit tipsy.”

 

“So am I.”

 

“It caused enough of a problem for you last time.”

 

Suga smiled, began littering a trail of kisses down Daichi’s neck, breath hot on his skin. “I knew you remembered.” Then he bit down, and Daichi let out an involuntary moan as Suga’s teeth nipped a bruise into his skin.

 

Suga’s hands found their way under his shirt once more while Daichi’s occupied themselves with the buttons on Suga’s. Soon Suga was shrugging his shirt from his shoulders entirely, allowing Daichi to map out his bare chest, first with his eyes and then with his hands. Suga shivered under his touch, pressed against him in a silent plea for more. Daichi’s hands fell to Suga’s waist and settled there, rubbing circles against the delicate stretch of skin above the hem of his trousers. Suga blinked and whatever trance he had fallen under broke; with no warning he proceeded to yank Daichi’s top up and over his head, hurling it out of sight as though the garment offended him.

 

Suga’s smile oozed with mischief as he placed a hand on Daichi’s bare chest. He shoved, and Daichi, caught off-guard, flopped onto his back with embarrassing ease. Before he had the chance to react Suga straddled him, his slender frame surprisingly effective in pinning Daichi down.      

 

_Whatcha gonna do?_ Gloated Suga’s smirk. Daichi rolled his hips by way of response, and now it was Suga’s turn to be caught off-guard. He tipped forwards, catching his weight on the arms as they rested on either side of Daichi’s head, a breathy gasp shuddering past his throat.

“You-!” Suga’s exclamation was cut short when Daichi wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him into a frantic, heated kiss. Mouth occupied, he began carding his hands through Suga’s hair, earning an appreciative hum.

His train of thought shuddered to a halt when Suga bit down on his bottom lip and _sucked_. Daichi gasped into Suga’s mouth, hands bunching into fists in Suga’s hair, but all too soon Suga released him. Not that Daichi would ever complain – not when Suga’s mouth was working its way down his torso in a haphazard trail of wet kisses and sharp nips that were just on the right side of painful.

 

He reached the hem of Daichi’s trousers and paused, glancing up at Daichi. “May I…?”

 

Daichi’s mouth was suddenly very dry. He nodded mutely.

 

Suga’s hands smoothed over the insides of his thighs moving slowly, glacially, upwards. “Are you sure?”

 

The sensation dragged a shiver from the base of Daichi’s spine, and it was all he could do not to shiver as sparks crackled through his nerves in the wake of Suga’s touch.

 

Daichi groaned. “What do you want me to do, beg?!”

 

“Appealing, I admit.” The sound of a zipper being pulled down cut through the air. Daichi swore under his breath, but not quietly enough to escape Suga’s sharp ears.

 

Daichi’s trousers promptly joined his shirt on the floor, followed by his boxers, and then it was Suga’s turn to be swearing under his breath. The tips of Daichi’s ears burned red-hot, but he refused to feel embarrassed under Suga’s flushed gaze.

 

The moment was punctuated by another kiss, slow and warm, like sinking into a hot bath at the end of a long day. But then Suga’s hand slid down between them and-

 

-at the same moment Daichi’s teeth sunk into Suga’s bottom lip as a display of coloured lightbulbs began flashing like disco effects in his mind, arranged to spell out the words _HOLY SHIT_ to the sky above.

 

Daichi groaned, low and guttural, hands spasming across Suga’s chest and waist as his mind tried to pull him in three directions at once.  It was hard to focus on anything over the flashing lights screaming in his mind, but one thought prominent enough to stick was that the smug doctor smirking down at him and working nothing short of _miracles_ on his body was nowhere near sufficiently undressed.

 

It turned out to be a simple problem to solve.

  

It no longer felt like they were two separate people; with hot skin pressed on hot skin they moved together as one, thought as one, breathed as one.

 

God, Suga was beautiful. The lips that had been once again working their way down Daichi’s torso parted in a chuckle, and Daichi realised with a jolt that he had said that out loud.

 

Suga’s lips reached the curve of Daichi’s hips, followed them down as they narrowed to a V. He paused to send Daichi his most mischievous smile yet (although _how_ he could have beaten the last two or three Daichi couldn’t imagine) before shuffling downwards, hovering with his mouth inches away from Daichi, so close that he could feel Suga’s breath ghosting over his already tense and twitching skin.

 

The moment lasted for so long that Daichi wondered if time had stopped. He lay there, each breath shaking from his body as if it were struggling to escape him, generally supressing a full-body shudder that sparked at the base of Daichi’s spine every time Suga exhaled. Daichi had never bought into tales of spontaneous human combustion before, but now, feeling as he did, he was a little more disposed to believe in it. With so many nerves sparking and jumping through his body, he felt about ready to explode.

 

The sensation multiplied a hundred – no, a thousandfold, when Suga took him into his mouth. Daichi gasped, eyes sliding shut as he arched his back, shrinking away from the sudden, overwhelming sensation yet at the same time seeking more.

 

“Jesus fucking…” Daichi’s voice cracked on the last syllable when he felt Suga’s tongue sliding across him. A low hum of amusement echoed from Suga’s throat, the vibration enough to summon another expletive to Daichi’s lips. “God. God, Suga…” The sensation sent Daichi’s already-scattered thoughts spinning along with the rest of his mind, soon leaving him so light-headed he genuinely wondered if Suga was trying to pull his soul from his body. If he kept going the way he was, he would probably succeed.     

 

But he didn’t – as soon as Daichi had been pushed to the very brink, Suga pulled away. Daichi sat up, mind and body still reeling, but he didn’t have a chance to be mournful when Suga’s body had once more aligned with his, hands gripping his hair and yanking their mouths together, and God, Suga tasted phenomenal.

 

Without detaching their lips Daichi gently spun them until it was Suga lying on his back, cheeks flushed and staring up at him with wide eyes. Daichi smiled, began to dip downwards, but Suga’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, stopping him. 

 

Daichi met his gaze, eyes quizzical, and Suga shook his head.

 

“If you… I’m going to…” he panted, chest rising and falling in deep motions as he searched for the words. “I need you. Now.”

 

Daichi noticed for the first time the pinkish-red hue of Suga’s skin, the force with which he was biting into his bottom lip, the _need_. He was just as desperate as Daichi was.

 

Daichi understood.

 

Daichi let his fingers run down Suga’s sides, scraping across the skin of his torso and sliding across his navel. Suga twitched beneath him, a heavy moan escaping his lips. Daichi kept going, fingers trailing through increasingly sensitive areas with feather-light touch, moving further and further back. He withdrew his hand for a moment and Suga shivered from the deprivation, blinked up at him as Daichi leaned over in the direction of his bedside table. Soon the touch returned, and the sensation of cool liquid pressing into his skin with the slide of Daichi’s hand had his eyes squeezing shut once more. 

 

Daichi pushed in.

 

Suga’s mouth fell open, nails scrabbling for purchase on Daichi’s shoulders as his body shook, adjusting. Daichi paused, mouth dry at the sight of Suga, the _feel_ of Suga.

 

The pressure of Suga’s hand pushing at his arm spurned him onwards, and he began to move as gently as possible, eyes fixed upon Suga, alert to his every reaction. Before long a second finger joined the first, sliding and pushing and pleasuring until Daichi was sure that Suga was utterly, utterly, wrecked.

 

It wasn’t until Suga’s skin was flushed as red as Daichi had ever seen it, until his breaths became so frantic it was as if he could find no air in the room, when his eyelids began to flutter open and shut over glassy, blissed brown eyes that Daichi pulled away.

 

Suga whined, voice high in his throat, the noise sending amusement jumping to his stomach where a million other desires and sensations fought for space.

 

Suga grabbed him by the back of his head, pulled him in until their foreheads rested against one another. For a moment there was silence as they looked into each other’s eyes, both deep brown and burning and god-awfully in love.

 

They kissed.

 

Daichi had never been one for grand flares of the dramatic or exaggerated heartfelt confessions. But he didn’t mind admitting that, in all certainty, it was the best kiss of his life.

 

Daichi returned, having put the necessary precautions in place, only to be caught off-guard when Suga launched at him, yelling out by way of a war cry as he pulled him down and attempted to pin him for the second time that night.

 

Daichi immediately fought back, every other thought in his mind promptly thrown out the window as every instinct zeroed in on the desire to win. The wrestling match soon turned into giggling, and when Suga’s nails scrabbled up Daichi’s side with the threat of tickling hanging in the air Daichi promptly surrendered.

 

Daichi couldn’t complain. Being pinned between Suga’s thighs once more was _not_ going to get old.

 

Fire burned in Suga’s eyes as he looked down at the man beneath him. As quickly as the mood had lightened it returned to the hot need of before as his pupils dilated at the sight of Daichi spread out under him.

 

He slowly shifted his weight, and once more he waited, hovering, watching.

 

Daichi shivered. “Suga…”

 

Suga’s eyes darkened. He slid down.

 

Daichi gasped, mouth falling open as waves of heat rushed and sparked across his body. He could feel Suga all around him, crushing, suffocating, consuming, and when he inhaled it was Suga in his lungs and in his blood but most of all in his heart.

 

The noises Suga was making were indescribable, and had he been in any state of mind to do so Daichi would have been listening, recording, memorising as Suga adjusted around him.

 

 With no warning or build-up, Suga began to move.

 

The shouts of bliss that escaped their throats came in perfect harmony with each other.

 

It was at that point that Daichi lost the ability to form coherent thoughts.

 

Suga gripped onto his shoulders as though Daichi were his anchor in a stormy sea, his nails undoubtedly leaving scarred skin in their wake. But Daichi was no better, clinging onto Suga’s hips as though they were his lifeline, and God, did it feel true.

 

Suga’s body tensed and shivered around him, and Suga’s head tipping back and his hands bunching into fists served as Daichi’s only warning.

 

Suga finished with Daichi’s name on his lips.

 

Soon Daichi followed, every nerve ablaze as he threw his head back against the mattress and _yelled_.

 

For a few moments they rested in silence, both panting. Then Suga smiled, a smile which broke into a giggle.

 

“What?!” Daichi said, trying to regain control of his voice and failing.

 

“Wow.” Suga giggled, bringing his forehead down to rest against Daichi’s. “Wow.”

 

Daichi blushed, then, after a moment, replied with, “Agreed.”

 

***

 

The immediate aftermath was something of a blur; all Daichi knew was that it ended with them comfortably entwined in his bed in a cocoon of blankets, because _somehow_ Suga could exert himself to the point of sweating and still be freezing five minutes later, and Daichi’s arms, he protested, while certainly a good start, were simply not enough of a cover.

 

Suga’s head, rising and falling in time with his chest, rested beneath his chin as though it had been made to fit there. As stupid as it was, Daichi couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he lay in the dark and held the man he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaah this was the most I could do without getting uncomfortable, hope it wasn't a letdown. I think this is still within the M rating going by what y'all told me but let me know if I should switch to E. Thanks for the advice & encouragement, peeps.
> 
> Now, would you believe that there's still another 10k or so to go...? (Anyone who has noticed the hints I've been dropping will have no trouble guessing why ;D )
> 
> It aint over till it's over.


	25. The One the Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi has never done anything the easy way and he isn't about to start now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics from "The Airplane Song" by Scouting for Girls.  
> Duh.

The first light of dawn began to spill through Daichi’s red bedroom curtains, lighting the room with a soft pink glow. Daichi stirred and rolled over, primordial senses telling him that in spite of the faint light spilling into the room this was no time at which any reasonable person would set an alarm.

 

But then, as Daichi had discovered over the course of several months, Suga was not necessarily a reasonable person.

 

Daichi mumbled something into the pillow. It might have been “What the fuck.” The world would never know for sure.

 

“Crap, sorry.” The mattress bounced a little as Suga rolled from the bed, scrabbling around in search of the phone which lay hidden among his scattered clothes. Holding it up at last, he blinked and rubbed his eyes in the face of the bright phone screen. A tap of a button and it fell silent in his hand. “Had to have an early alarm set for my flight.”

 

Daichi grumbled, rolled over and blinked one eye open. He smiled, watching as the first sunbeams of the day swirled and danced around Suga’s wiry frame. Reaching out across the still-warm sheets, he beckoned for Suga to return to him.

 

 Suga smiled, took his hand, but leaned in only long enough to press their lips together before returning to his clothes, which he began to pull on.

 

Daichi blinked, the beginnings of a frown forming. It was too early to be thinking clearly. “Come back to bed,” he tried, voice gruff with drowsiness, this time using words so there could be no confusion.

 

“Daichi.” Suga moved closer again, but still not close enough. He smiled, staying at eye-level as he buttoned up his shirt. “You know I would love to. But I have to get going.”

 

“Why?” Daichi pushed himself up, ruffling a hand through his hair and nearly laughing at himself for how petulant he sounded.

 

“God, you’re useless before your coffee.” Suga leaned over to aid in the hair-ruffling efforts, his smile turning sad. “My flight, remember?”

 

Suddenly Daichi felt very awake. Oh. Oh, he had been so stupid.

 

Last night he had thought Suga had changed his mind about leaving. But he hadn’t.

 

He had been saying goodbye.

 

And as soon as the sudden burst of energy had arrived, it left once more as Daichi slumped back down in the bed.

 

The smell of coffee began to fill the flat as Suga busied himself in the kitchen, and a few minutes later Daichi stumbled in, bleary-eyed and wearing a grey pair of joggers. The radio sitting on the counter was humming away, some chirpy English pop Daichi didn’t recognise.

 

_…so get yourself on that airplane,_

_‘cause it’s been far too long since you went away…_

 

 Suga greeted him with a kiss and coffee, both of which left Daichi warm enough to melt. The experience was new, yet he felt like he had done it a thousand times before. It felt right.

 

It was within his grasp, yet still he was going to lose it.

 

 “I can come with you to the airport?”

 

“I’m afraid you can’t. There isn’t going to be enough room in the taxi for _me_ , let alone my suitcases.”

 

Daichi made a dismissive noise. “Who needs clothes?”

 

Suga laughed, turned around and let his arms snake around Daichi’s waist, fingers trailing down the skin of his exposed chest. “As much as I might agree, I think going about my business butt-naked would case quite a stir.”

 

“I wouldn’t complain.”

 

Suga chuckled again, nose wrinkling, and when he opened his eyes again he found Daichi’s lips pressing against his.

 

For a moment Suga sighed, melted into him, and Daichi wondered if it could be enough. If he could be enough to make him stay.

 

Suga’s phone, once again, began to ring.

 

He pulled his phone from his pocket with a sigh, no longer kissing Daichi but still close enough for Daichi’s hands to rest on his waist.

 

“Crap.” Suga swiped his thumb across the screen. “Crap, how did it get so late?! I need to leave!”

 

He looked up, stopping in his tracks when he saw Daichi’s mask slip.

 

The next kiss was hungry, frantic, demanding, because knowing it would never be enough didn’t stop Daichi from trying. For a moment they were lost in each other, breaths shuddering and grips tightening, but once again Suga broke away.

 

“I really have to go,” he whispered into Daichi’s chest.

 

“Do you?” Daichi whispered back, eyes close.

 

He felt a hand on his chest, opened his eyes to be met with a burning gaze.

 

“Don’t, Daichi. Please don’t. Don’t let it end with this.” 

 

“Then how would you like it to end?” he asked, voice soft.

 

“Like this.”

 

The last kiss was soft, perhaps the softest of them all. Suga’s hand cupped Daichi’s cheek and Daichi breathed in, remembering the sweet mix of vanilla and tea, making it _part_ of him.

 

They walked arm in arm to the corner where Suga’s taxi waited, engine humming impatiently. Daichi waited as Suga gave the driverdirections to his house, where he would pick up the last of his things and say goodbye to Asahi and Noya before heading for the airport.

 

When the taxi door slid shut, leaving a cold metal wall between them, Daichi held his hand up to the window, not caring if the driver was glaring at him for marking it.

 

On the other side of the glass Suga mirrored the gesture, and when their eyes met Suga’s were wet. He said something Daichi couldn’t hear through the glass, and then the cab began to move away. Daichi stumbled back, followed the car for a few steps, eyes fixed upon the mop of grey hair before it could vanish from view. Just one more look, he just wanted one more look-

 

-but it was too late. The taxi pulled away, taking Suga with it.

 

Daichi stood in the cold, deserted street, alone.

 

As the taxi turned the corner and vanished from sight, a few lyrics from the radio song floated through Daichi’s mind.

 

_…he's so extraordinary, he left last January,_

_And that’s the reason I miss you so…_

 

***

 

“Not yet.” Kenma hadn’t even looked up from his laptop, so how could he possibly know Kuroo had been reaching for his phone? Witchcraft was how. It was the only explanation Kuroo would accept. It all added up – he even had a black cat.

 

“I just thought I would check in with Daichi. I haven’t heard anything.”

 

“Leave him be. He needs time.” Kemna scrunched up his nose as he tapped at the keys of his computer. Warm daylight streamed through the curtains, and the smell of morning coffee still permeated the flat and hung in the air above them. It was a pyjamas-and-thick-socks kind of morning, Kuroo’s favourite kind, and it would be perfect if not for two things: firstly, the lingering drumming at the base of his skull lest he forget for a moment last night’s alcohol intake, and secondly, the total radio silence from Daichi. Kuroo knew he was bound to be messed up, knew he needed time, but all the same it was making him antsy. Kenma’s feet nudged into his side, and Kuroo realised he was still holding his mobile.

 

He slid it back into his pocket with a sigh. “I always figured they’d work it out. They followed the dumb rom-com path so stubbornly I was convinced they’d end up at the cheesy make-outs in the rain resolution sooner or later.”

 

Kenma continued to tap away, and Kuroo assumed he had tuned out of his ramblings as was often the case. Kenma’s reply, when it came, therefore caught him off-guard. “I also expected something along those lines.”

 

Kuroo stopped, barked out a laugh. “Kozume Kenma. Did you just admit to being wrong about something?”

 

Kenma didn’t look up from his laptop but the tips of his ears turned red. “…no.”

 

“You are,” Kuroo said, poking the soft part of Kenma’s stomach exposed where his shirt rode up, “the _worst_ liar,” he poked again, eliciting a muffled snort which Kuroo recognised as the prelude to full-on giggling, “I have _ever_ met.” And abruptly he switched from poking to full-on tickling, at which point Kenma yelped and launched the laptop into the air as he writhed away from Kuroo’s reach.

 

Only when Kenma had curled into a fetal position, body shaking with laughter under the onslaught, did Kuroo relent.

 

“Okay,” Kenma replied, pulling Kuroo in against him. “Okay, _maybe_ I was wrong. You win.”

 

Kuroo smiled, but it was quickly chased away by another thought.

 

Kenma noticed the change in expression. “What is it?”

 

“Do you think…” Kuroo frowned, thinking his words through with care. “…there’s a chance you could be wrong twice?”

 

***

 

Oikawa’s boyfriend had an awful habit of getting up at the crack of dawn and clattering around in the kitchen for what felt like hours. It was almost as though Iwaizumi was _trying_ to wake him up.

 

But, as always, the tray of pancakes that appeared under his nose was enough to soften his heart – at least enough that he only complained a _little_.

 

“Always awake so early, Iwa-chan. It’s unnatural.” Oikawa stretched, wriggling around inside his cocoon of blankets.

 

“You’re right. I’ll dump your breakfast straight into the bin.” Iwaizumi wrinkled his nose as he sat on the edge of the bed, fingers finding the mop of Oikawa’s hair and threading through it, far softer than his words.

 

“No need for that.” The mop of hair shifted, and Oikawa’s face emerged, mid-yawn.

 

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you didn’t stay up all night watching stupid alien conspiracy shit on Youtube.” He nudged a plate of pancakes at Oikawa’s face, the aroma almost enough to draw a gurgle from his stomach.

 

“For once, having a sleepless night was _not_ my fault.” Oikawa groaned, pushing himself upright and taking the plate, the cool morning air brushing exposed skin.

 

Iwaizumi flushed red, bristling. “Okay, _first of all_ , you were the one to start it with the wandering hands, _second-_ ”

 

“No, no, I don’t mean _that_. I take _full responsibility_ for that.” Oikawa’s eyes dropped down past Iwaizumi’s torso before returning to his face, smirk curling in the corner of his mouth. “I mean later on. What was it, three, four? Didn’t they wake you?” He picked up one of the pancakes with his fingers, paying no mind to the sticky droplets of syrup oozing over his fingers. A couple landed on the flat of his bared stomach, and he could tell that Iwaizumi’s attention had followed them. Oikawa laughed. “I forgot, you sleep through anything, don’t you!”

 

“Didn’t what wake me up?” Iwaizumi asked, mind clearly not on the conversation.

 

“Our favourite neighbour, of course. And his favourite guy. Ah, Mister Refreshing. It took them long enough, honestly.” He noticed Iwaizumi’s mild disgust. “What?!”

 

“You. Lying there all night listening to other people. You’re such a pervert.”

 

“Oh.” Oikawa quirked an eyebrow. “And you’re _not?_ ”

 

Iwaizumi’s gaze snapped up. “Absolutely not.”

 

“Sure.” Oikawa dusted the crumbs of his second pancake from his fingers. Damn. He had gotten treacle all over himself. He caught Iwaizumi’s eye again, and smiled. “Help me clean this up?”

 

Iwaizumi’s will cracked.

 

***

 

It was midday when the door to Daichi’s apartment swung open. He stepped out, jacket collar turned up against the biting wind which had been cutting through the city all morning. He met Iwaizumi in the corridor, and if Iwaizumi noticed the slouch in his shoulders he didn’t comment. They descended several flights of stairs in companionable silence. 

 

“It’s been a while,” he commented somewhere around the third floor.

 

“Busy month.”

 

“You got that right,” he replied with a slight grin which Daichi was unable to return. He took a moment to thank the stars that it had been Iwaizumi he had bumped into and not Oikawa; it was easier by far to be short or quiet around Iwaizumi without appearing rude. For him it was the conversational norm.

 

It was another half-flight before Iwaizumi spoke again. “I can’t remember if I ever thanked you.”

 

“Oh?” Daichi replied, most of his concentration on his descent. He still didn’t entirely trust his leg not to give out under him, especially where stairs were involved.

 

“You know. You. Oikawa. Me. The helping.”

 

“What? Oh! Oh, really, it was nothing. You just needed a push.”

 

“Yeah. Thanks anyway.” The corners of Iwaizumi’s mouth twitched upwards again. Daichi noted for the first time that Iwaizumi’s hair was more ruffled than it had any right to be so late in the day, an observation that brought more amusement than it should have. “Even if it was nothing for you, it was still important. No matter how big something gets, more often than not it’s never going to happen without that little push.” Daichi stopped dead, and so did Iwaizumi, looking at him with raised eyebrows. “Uh, Daichi?”

 

“You’re right,” Daichi replied quietly. “Shit, YOU’RE RIGHT!”

 

“What the fuck,” Iwaizumi replied mildly.

 

“Shit!” Daichi added, an octave higher. “Oh my god, shit, I’m an idiot.”

 

“Don’t know about idiot. Fucking weird, certainly.”

 

Daichi half-turned, unable to decide which direction he should be going in. “Oh my god. I have to go.”

 

“Weren’t you already going somewhere?”

 

“Yes! No! Doesn’t matter! I need, I need, my wallet, probably, I don’t know, I need to go back to my flat.” He turned abruptly and bounded back up the way he had come, taking the stairs two at the time.

 

A few seconds later, he clattered back down.

 

“Um?” Iwaizumi began.

 

“Almost forgot.” Daichi panted, placing a hand in Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

 

“For what?” Iwaizumi called after Daichi’s receding form.

 

“The push!” 

 

Daichi’s heart was beating a frantic rhythm against his chest by the time he reached his floor once more, but his spurt of energy left him as quickly as it came as he patted each pocket in turn, finding his door key in none of them. He was so engrossed in his search he didn’t hear the ding and the creak as the ancient metal doors of the lift slid open behind him.

 

“Jeez, Sawamura, you don’t look so good,” Kuroo drawled. Kenma stood beside him, twirling a key to his flat between his fingers. “You gonna see someone about that?”

 

“Yes.” Daichi turned, jaw set. “In fact,” he added, striding over to take the spare key from Kenma’s hands. “I think I need a doctor.”

 

***

 

The house was quieter than it had been in some time. Suga had left a few hours previously, the farewell no less emotional than it had been the night before. Tanaka, for once, had found somewhere to crash other than the couch – almost certainly Ennoshita’s bed, a fact Noya found endlessly amusing.

 

It was a strange note upon which to start their first day of married life, although he doubted the sombre mood would follow them past the end of Suga’s – _their_ – driveway. Suga wasn’t the only one catching a flight today: soon it would all be white sand and blue skies and the best husband in the world. The excitement alone was enough to start Noya’s knee jiggling.

 

They were hurling the last of their clothes into a shared suitcase (Well, Noya was hurling. For some reason, Asahi insisted on folding his clothes neatly. Such habits remained a mystery to Noya) when his phone began to vibrate.

 

He picked it up, frowning when he read the name lighting up on display. “Daichi’s calling.” He looked to Asahi in search of an explanation, but Asahi only shrugged. He answered the call, hiding his confusion with an airy “Ssup.”

 

“Christ, great, Noya, thank god.” Daichi’s voice was distorted by the sounds of traffic and chatter. “Has Suga left your place yet?”

 

The words _your place_ still sounded strange to Noya when it had yet to stop feeling like Suga’s. But now was not the time for dwelling on that. “Yeah, a couple hours back.” Something in Noya’s belly began to fizzle. It was either fear or excitement - he had never been great at telling the two apart. “Is something wrong?” And in a strange way, he hoped there was.

 

“Yes. I need to see him. I need to tell him everything.”

 

“Well.” Noya’s eyes met Asahi’s, who had been watching him with concern. He swallowed. “Shit.”

 

Daichi returned the curse with vigour. “What time is his flight, has it left yet?”

 

“Uh, no, it’s in about half an hour. Can’t you phone him?!”

 

“Yeah, funnily enough that did occur to us, but thanks all the same,” Daichi cut back. Under any other circumstances the tone would have earned him a glare. “He isn’t picking up.”

 

“If that’s Suga you’re talking about, he’s probably already turned his phone off for the flight,” Asahi spoke over Daichi’s retort.

 

Noya swore again. “Did you catch that, Daichi?”

 

“Yes. Goddamn it. We’re trying to flag down a taxi but today of all days the roads had to be at a standstill. I wouldn’t like our chances even if they were empty.” 

 

Noya shook his head. “We have Asahi’s car, but… we’re flying out from the airport the next city over, there’s no way we can drive you out and make our flight as well…” Noya’s voice trailed off, his mouth dry. For once he was lost for words.

 

The phone was suddenly taken from his hands. “Daichi? It’s me,” Asahi rumbled, his voice reassuringly calm. “I need you to tell me something. Are you serious about this? About Suga?”

 

Noya didn’t need to hear the answer; it was all in Asahi’s face. One look was all they needed to share – it was clear they were both thinking the same thing.

 

“Alright,” Asahi said at last. “We’re going to help. Where are you right now?” Words buzzed from the phone. Asahi cut them off. “Our honeymoon can wait. Suga is more important. Just don’t mess this up.”

 

Noya beamed at him, and Asahi returned the smile along with the phone. It was then that the best idea Noya had had in all his life sprang into being.

 

“Daichi,” he announced into the phone. Chest puffed out and chin in the air, it took every ounce of his strength to keep his cool as Daichi waited for him to continue. “Do you know what I have?”

 

“No. What?”

 

Noya could put a name to the electricity coursing through his veins now. Excitement. “I have _a plan_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no one told you this fic was gonna be this way (clap clap clap clap clap)  
> I mean, I'm laughing now, but I'm also probably going to get sued so I guess there is no winner here.
> 
> Tune in next week for Noya's best/worst plan yet.


	26. The One With the Police Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time was against them, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed last week's update, but I have a good excuse: 'Twas my birthday. I'm OLD. Too old to be updating like a reasonable person.  
> Anyway, it gave me enough time to add extra Kuroken, so there's the silver lining.  
> Please enjoy this chaos.

Daichi couldn’t stay still, and he could tell it was getting to Kenma. “How long has it been now?”

 

“A minute longer than the last time you asked,” Kenma replied without checking his watch. At least Kuroo seemed just as antsy as he was, and the show of solidarity would be comforting if he weren’t pacing so close to the kerb. Then again, he wasn’t in much danger as far as traffic was concerned. Daichi had seen snails moving faster than the cars jamming the road as far as the eye could see. In the distance, a siren wailed.

 

Daichi’s phone pinged, and he had it out of his pocket in a second. “Almost there, had to stop at Tanaka’s,” he read. “Is now really the time?!” 

 

Kuroo shrugged helplessly.

 

“Why would he…” Kenma frowned. A lightbulb sparked into life behind his eyes, and his eyebrows began to climb his head. It had been some time since Daichi had seen such a display of emotion from him. “Oh my God.”

 

The sirens in the distance grew louder. A police car appeared on the horizon, tearing up the bus line like there was no tomorrow.

 

Kuroo followed his gaze, eyes widening in disbelief. “They didn’t.”

 

“What are you guys talking about?” Daichi turned around just as the police car pulled up on the kerb alongside them, scattering gravel across the pavement. Blue lights danced across them, forcing Daichi to raise a hand to protect his eyes. “What the fuck?”

 

“What are you waiting for?!” An all-too familiar voice bellowed over the still-screaming sirens. “Get in!”

 

Noya sat in the passenger seat of the police car. Tanaka saluted them with the hand which wasn’t gripping the wheel, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and manic eyes hidden behind a strained grin. Behind the grill where criminals usually sat, Asahi waved, skin a shade greener than usual.

 

“This is so many kinds of illegal I wouldn’t know where to begin,” Kuroo commented as he slid into the back seat, Kenma alongside him. Daichi took what was left of the space on Asahi’s other side. The car was in no way built to hold this many people.

 

“Yeah, well, I promised Noya and Asahi one hell of a wedding present and I’m delivering even if it kills me.” Tanaka kicked the car into first gear with grim determination. “Fasten your seatbelts and hold on to anything you can. I am _not_ messing around today.”

 

“He’s not kidding,” Asahi groaned. Daichi wondered if he should have given him a window seat. The engine roared into life and Asahi groaned again as the car jumped into action like a horse released from a starting gate. Sirens still blazing, they roared up the bus lane, and Daichi very quickly took Tanaka’s advice, gripping onto the door with white knuckles.

 

“You’re using your wedding gift from Tanaka just for me?” Daichi said, quietly enough that for a moment he thought his question had gone unheard.

 

“No, dummy,” Noya replied, turning around in his seat. “We’re doing this for you _and_ for Suga. So no pressure, but you better not mess this up, because we’ll be dammed if we’re skipping out on our honeymoon just for you to blush like a twelve year old making their first confession and bolt at the last minute.”

 

“Yeah, and, uh, again no pressure, but if I lose my job because of this I’m moving into your place. Them’s the rules.” Tanaka wrenched the wheel to one side as the car hurtled around a bend.

 

“I’m not even going to object. Thank you, all of you.”

 

“What can we say, Sawamura?” Kuroo interjected. “We’ve all had enough of this shit to last a lifetime.”

 

Daichi, who had spent countless hours over the last few months complaining about the insanity forced upon him by his friends, at last came to the realisation that he was just as bad as they were.

 

Fair play.

 

The car’s dashboard display had a red LED display clock which Daichi’s eyes never left as they swerved and dodged through street after street of unmoving traffic. Every time the display flickered and switched from one minute to the next his grip tightened. Where would Suga be now? Baggage drop? Security? Boarding?

 

They were running out of time.

 

The car screeched to a halt at the drop off point, scattering pedestrians left and right.

 

“Alright, you guys get out and get moving, there’s still a chance to make it. Asahi, Noya, stay in the car. I’m getting you to your honeymoon or I’m dying trying.”

 

“Please don’t,” Asahi whimpered.

 

They threw open the doors, the whir of airplanes overhead now audible.

 

“Thank you, Tanaka.” Daichi said as he climbed from the car. Tanaka turned around in his seat.

 

“I love you, Daichi,” he answered with choked sincerity.

 

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Daichi deadpanned.

 

“Daichi, wait.” Noya turned as well, equally serious. “I love you too.”

 

“Uh.” Asahi fidgeted. “If they’re both saying it, should I-?”

 

“No, that’s fine, thanks again, now _get moving_.” He didn’t have the chance to watch as the car roared into life once more. Kuroo’s hand was already on his arm, yanking him towards the _departures_ gate.

 

They skittered to a halt in front of a wall of giant displays. Amber text scrolled across every screen, each three times Daichi’s height. Flight names and numbers flashed and rolled in and out of view amongst jumbles of meaningless numbers and letters, and Daichi clutched at his head as he tried to pick out Suga’s flight from the madness. It was like the world’s most inconvenient word search.

 

“That one.” Kenma pointed after about two minutes of methodical scanning. “EZY2488. Now boarding.”

 

“Kenma, you brilliant bastard.” Kuroo pulled Kenma into a headlock and planted a kiss on his forehead. “We might still make it!”

 

“Not if we stand around celebrating.” Now it was Daichi’s turn to be yanking Kuroo by the arm. “Come on!”

 

The trio blended in perfectly in the airport bustle as they dashed through endless corridors, racing against other travellers hurrying to catch their flights.

 

“I think we’ve got about five minutes.” Daichi panted as he glanced at a giant wall clock. “If his gate isn’t too far away then we might…” he trailed off as the high metal arches and rolling conveyor belts of security appeared on the horizon. Over each metal arch hung the same sign: _Have Your Ticket Ready_.

 

“I don’t have a ticket.” Daichi stopped dead, causing Kuroo to crash into his back. “I can’t get through without a ticket.”

 

“Shit,” Kuroo muttered.

 

Daichi grabbed his shoulders. “To the ticket office!”

 

The pair of them turned in the corridor and bolted, both tripping over someone’s suitcase and falling on their faces before running onwards, yelling apologies over their shoulders. Kenma came to a stop, hands on his knees, panting.

 

“…I’ll wait here.” They were already too far away to hear them; he doubted they had noticed anyway. Another giant display hung over the security gates, flight updates blinking away. Kenma’s eyes picked out Suga’s flight once more, watched the information beside it as it flashed and changed. His reaction, lost amid the hum of a dozen travellers’ conversations around him, was no more than a quiet “shit.”

 

***

 

“I don’t know, just give me any ticket.”

 

“Sir, I cannot assign you “any” ticket.” The desk attendant gave him a flat look from under a mop of dark, curly hair. He gestured to the information screen above him. “You have to pick one.”

 

“Listen, buddy,” Kuroo started, the palms of his hands placed flat upon the counter.

 

“It’s Akaashi”

 

“Akaashi, whatever. You see my buddy here? He’s chasing after the love of his life right now, because the guy is about to leave the country forever, right, so if he doesn’t tell the dude how he feels now, he’ll never have the chance to, you get me? We just need a ticket, any damn ticket that will get us as far as the gate so he can have his big ol’ romantic happily ever after.”

 

Akaashi blinked slowly. “You do realise that’s the exact plot of the Friends finale?”

 

Kuroo slammed his head into the desk.

 

“For the love of God, we know,” interrupted Daichi, “just give me a ticket, _please_!”

 

The flight attendant tutted, began tapping numbers into his computer. “Fine. Your passport, please.”

 

Daichi’s heart stopped beating for all of three seconds, until Kuroo slammed the familiar red book down on the desk. Akaashi picked it up, eyes flicking between the photo and Daichi’s face. While he was printing out the ticket, Daichi took the opportunity for a quick interrogation.

 

“Not that I’m ungrateful, but why in the name of God do you have my passport?!”

 

“I swiped it before we left. An airport seems like the kind of place where a passport might be useful, no?”

 

“How did you even find it?! I had it hidden!”

 

“Your kitchen drawer isn’t exactly Fort Knox, dumbass. Your entire apartment is a security nightmare.”

 

“And who’s fault is that?!” He barely noticed when Akaashi pushed the ticket towards him, too busy debating whether he should kiss Kuroo or kill him.

 

“Argue later, running now!” Kuroo swiped the boarding pass from the desk attendant’s hands. “Thanks, man!”

 

Both of them missed the corrective “It’s _Akaashi_ ” and the quiet “…and good luck” which followed.

 

***

 

Kenma was still waiting for them in front of the security gates, but whatever he tried to say to them was lost in Kuroo’s yelling.

 

“Passport! Boarding pass! All set!” He pulled Daichi into a bone-crushing embrace. “Love you man! So proud! Get going!” He shoved Daichi unceremoniously into the arms of a baffled security guard.

 

Shoes off, pockets empty, he dashed for the body scan, and when it started whirring and screaming he cursed as he remembered his belt all too late.

 

The security guards seemed to take particular delight in taking as long as possible to search every inch of Daichi’s body for a concealed weapon they were never going to find.

 

He near-bolted away from security, before spinning and sprinting back to retrieve his shoes and belongings. Hopping on one foot while trying to slip a back shoe onto the other, his eyes glazed over walls of directions, names and arrows and numbers that melted and blurred together because the only word he could hold in his head for any length of time was Suga’s name.

 

He stumbled down long corridor after long corridor, tripping over the laces he hadn’t stopped to tie every other step, breaths rattling from his lungs as the months of exercise he had missed on a broken leg took their toll.

 

The giant number two loomed on the horizon, Suga’s gate. Daichi stumbled past empty seats toward the desk where a flight attendant was shuffling a stack of papers in her hands.    

 

“Please, my friend, he’s on that plane.”

 

“Sir-”

 

“Please, can you just, I don’t know, put an announcement on the coms or something to get him off, _please-_ ”

 

“Sir, I…” She shook her head and pointed to the flight information screen over her head.

 

Slowly Daichi raised his eyes, knowing what the screen would say before he read the words scrolling over it.

 

_Flight EZY2488, Now Departed._

***

 

Security let him back through with fewer questions than expected, probably due in part to the cloud of utter despair which followed him.  
  
He trudged towards Kuroo and Kenma, who waited with matching expressions, hands interlocked.

 

“We know,” Kenma said before Daichi could open his mouth. Kuroo pulled him into a silent hug, head burying into his shoulder.

 

“You should know I’m only doing this to wipe snot all over you.” His voice was muffled against Daichi’s clothes, but it was enough to cause Daichi’s shoulders to jerk up in laughter, just for a moment, and then a few seconds later they were jerking again and again for different reasons entirely.

 

He could feel Kenma’s embarrassment rolling off him in waves at standing so close to two sobbing idiots hugging in a public place, but nonetheless he reached over to pat Daichi’s shoulder, which was appreciated.

 

Daichi’s hands curled in on themselves of their own accord, the thin boarding pass card crumpling in his fist. He hadn’t had much reason to look at it before, but now the black text printed across it caught his eye. He hadn’t paid much attention to the flight Akaashi had booked him on, just hoping for something to get him to the right gate. He winced at the thought of his poor bank account, which now had to cope with the cost of an impromptu ticket to –

 

Mumbai, India.

 

The same place Suga had flown out to.

 

It was departing in an hour.

 

“Okay,” Daichi breathed, somewhat lightheaded. “New plan.”

 

Kuroo and Kenma blinked up at him.

 

Daichi smoothed out the ticket with shaking hands. “I’m going after him.”

 

He heard no objections.

 

  ***

 

Kuroo and Kenma left Daichi once again at the security gates, both too deeply set into a sense of shock to do much more than wish him luck. They caught a taxi home, Kenma’s head resting on Kuroo’s shoulder.

 

Kuroo watched a blur of buildings and pavement roll past, forehead resting against the cool glass of the window.

 

“You know, the second time Daichi met Suga was because of some bullshit excuse to get vaccinations for India. I guess it’s paying off at last.”

 

“Hmm.” Kenma nuzzled against his arm. “Are you remembering, or did one of us tell you about it?”

 

“Not sure. Maybe both.”

 

The taxi drew to a gentle halt, and after thrusting a couple notes in the driver’s direction they climbed out, hand in hand.

 

“Your memory has improved a lot.”

 

Now it was Kuroo’s turn to hum.

 

“Have you thought about going back to work?” Kenma’s question caught Kuroo’s attention, and he glanced down to find Kenma’s gaze fixed resolutely ahead.

 

“Work?” Kuroo replied, shoulders tensing. “No. No, I haven’t. Should I?”

 

Kenma shrugged. “I was only wondering.” The elevator hummed as its doors slid open, and they stepped in together, Kuroo absent-mindedly tapping the button for their floor. The return of his memories had started with fire, the same fire that had taken them. It licked at the corners of his mind, brightest in the dark of night. Fire was a pretty stupid phobia for a supposed fireman.

 

Yet, still, he couldn’t picture an open flame without the terrible twisting of his gut telling him to _get away, get away_.

 

Kuroo bit his lip. “Kenma, I don’t know if – If I _can_.” It was true that the worst was behind him – the nightmares, the shaking, all had lessened with time and with Kenma’s gentle care as he eased Kuroo out of each dream with soothing motions and quiet assurances. Yet still… the thought scared him. Yet with that thought came a strange realisation. “But I want to.”

 

Kenma’s eyes jumped to his in search of an explanation.

 

“I mean.” Kuroo paused, bit his lip. “I miss my job. It was as much a part of my old life as you. And I was damn good at it. I helped a lot of people. I want to help more, I would if I could just stop being so- so-!”

 

“Kuroo, stop.” Kenma took Kuroo’s hands and squeezed them until the shaking subsided. “You don’t have to pressure yourself like this.”

 

For a few moments the only sound was the groaning and creaking of the lift as it juddered upwards. Kenma relinquished Kuroo’s hands, which Kuroo let drop to his sides as he slouched back against the elevator wall, ignoring the thin layer of grime likely rubbing against his clothes.

 

“I just don’t understand why I can’t beat it.”

 

“Kuroo.” This time Kenma’s gaze was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

 

“The fear. I can’t beat it.”

 

Kenma closed his eyes and let out a steady breath. “It never stopped you before.”

 

Kuroo’s breath caught in his chest as he remembered, remembered that this wasn’t new. He had always lived like this, facing his fears on a daily basis to protect those he cared for. “Then maybe I should go back. Regardless of how I feel, I was damn good fireman. I don’t think I can deny the people who need me of that, you know? Anyway, I’m too young and beautiful for retirement.” His last comment drew a light snort from Kenma.

 

There was a slight pause before Kenma could reply as the lift doors slid open again. “Don’t disregard your feelings entirely.” Together they walked towards the door to their apartment, footsteps in sync.

 

Kuroo raised an eyebrow as he began rifling through his pockets for a door key, stopping short when he saw that Kenma had beaten him to it. “Why? What are your feelings?”

 

Kenma’s hands were hesitant as he slid the scratched gold key into the lock. “I never said _mine_ were important.”

 

“They are.” Kuroo’s hands landed on Kenma’s, stilling them. “Talk to me.”

 

Kenma raised his gaze, meeting Kuroo’s gaze at last. “Fine. The thought terrifies me. Deeply. Losing you again is unthinkable. And if you return to your job it’s a fear I will never shake.”

 

Kuroo let out a shaky breath. Kenma’s words had pulled the air from his lungs, the strength from his body. Then, as their meaning seeped through his bones like warm honey, he felt the strength return once more, burning stronger than ever before.

 

Kenma moved to push open the door, but before he could enter Kuroo caught him, pressing a kiss against Kenma’s lips. Kenma sighed, head tilting up to meet him as he cupped Kuroo’s face with hands that trembled.

 

It was Kuroo who broke the kiss, biting his lip as his fingers continued to thread through Kenma’s hair. “We met because of my work. I remember that.”

 

Kenma nodded, eyes sliding closed under his touch. “I nearly died,” he whispered.

 

“But I saved you.” The memory burned so brightly Kuroo couldn’t understand how he had ever forgotten.

 

Kenma nodded. 

 

“If I hadn’t been doing my job, you might have… and I can’t allow that, not for you or for anyone. So I think I do… I think I have to go back.” Kuroo tilted his head, smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. “Do you understand?”

 

A pause. A long, steady stare. “I do.” Kenma didn’t quite return the smile, but he took Kuroo’s hand and squeezed it. “I can’t promise not to be afraid, though.”

 

Kuroo snorted. “I guess that makes two of us.” He paused, turning to look Kenma in the eyes, warm, golden and beautiful. He made a decision.  “I know it’s been a long time coming, Kenma, but with everything that’s happened I’m almost more terrified of not saying this than I am of saying it.”

 

Kenma watched him, silent, waiting.

 

“I love you.”

 

A heart-stopping moment of silence. Then Kenma reached up, pulled Kuroo down by the hem of his shirt and kissed him again. His lips pressed against Kuroo’s, warm and soft, imprinting Kenma’s reply into Kuroo’s skin. When they broke apart at last Kenma was wearing a light, dizzy smile which probably matched Kuroo’s own stupefied grin down to the ground. He exhaled slowly, trying to force the oxygen back to his brain as relief washed over him. It wasn’t the first time Kuroo had said those words to Kenma, but it had been the first time since the amnesia. Either way, it had been a long time coming.

 

 At last Kuroo pushed open the door, revealing Altair, who glared up at them, tail twitching. “D’you think Daichi will be okay?” he asked as he sidestepped the sulking cat. “I’m pretty sure he’s never even left the country before.”

 

“Once he finds Suga he will be,” Kenma answered levelly as he pulled the door shut behind him.

 

Remembering that he hadn’t checked his phone in some time, Kuroo pulled it from his pocket, frowning at the list of notifications that awaited him. Hang on… missed call from… That didn’t make any sense.

 

There was a knock at the door.

 

“Kenma, could you get that?” Kuroo asked absent-mindedly as he picked through the list of notifications in search of an explanatory text.

 

Kenma grumbled something Kuroo didn’t quite catch, nudged their petulant cat out of the way and pulled open the door.

 

There was a moment of silence.

 

“Kuroo, I need your help reacting to something.”

 

Kuroo glanced up. Suddenly a list of missed calls from Sugawara Koushi was the last thing on his mind.

 

Especially when the man himself was standing in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
>  he got off the plane.  
> Surprise.
> 
> If I've done this right we should have one more full chapter and a little epilogue. Not far to go at all!
> 
> Coming up next week: another race to an airport, goddamn.


	27. The One Where He Got Off the Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We're going to need another police car"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update before I go spend the weekend sitting in a field getting rained on

“Uh,” Suga began. The wall of blank, open shock before him was more than a little off-putting. “So, hey, nice to see you guys.”

 

Kuroo was shaking his head slightly as if no longer believing his eyes.

 

“So, uh, would love to stop and chat, but… have either of you guys seen Daichi?”

 

The pair shared a glance Suga couldn’t translate. Finally, Kuroo spoke.

 

“You got off the plane.”

 

“Yes. I got off the plane.”

 

“Like the _Friends_ finale.”

 

“Yes, exactly, but really, where’s Daichi?”

 

Kuroo resumed the slow shaking of his head. “I think I’m having an aneurysm.”

 

“Kuroo, I’m quite busy. I don’t want to deal with an aneurysm right now. Please tell me where Daichi is.” Kuroo continued to shake his head wordlessly. Suga changed tactics. “Kenma?” 

 

Kenma’s eyes were disconcertingly wide. “Yes?”

 

“Kenma. Daichi. Where?”

 

“Suga. You got off the plane.”

 

Suga pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please. One straight answer and I’ll be out of your hair. Just one. You can do it.”

 

“You got off the plane.” Kenma blinked. Suga began to sympathise with Kuroo’s imaginary aneurism. “Daichi…”

 

“Daichi _what?_ ”

 

“Daichi got on a plane.”

 

Suga stopped. “On a plane.”

 

“To India.”

 

“To _India_.”

 

“To follow you.”

 

“Oh.” Suga paused. The implications hit him. “Oh. Fuck.”

 

Kuroo looked at his watch with casualness on the brink of giving into hysteria. “We’re going to need another police car.”

 

“Another _what_?!”

 

***

 

They didn’t end up in a police car, thank God (Suga was given no answers on who had been in one already and why, and was in no mood to press for them). The taxi driver was the same one that had taken Suga there from the airport. She gave the trio a very confused look.

 

Suga slammed a note that could have fed a small country into her hand. “Get us there in time and I’ll double it.” 

 

He had never seen more determination in a taxi driver’s eyes.

 

“Goddamn it, why is everyone so inaccessible today, of all days?” Kuroo grumbled as he frantically tapped his phone screen, which was displaying Daichi’s name.

 

“Because our lives have somehow descended into a stupid series of convoluted tropes and clichés. Anything actually working in our favour at this stage would completely sabotage them.”

 

“Kenma, not helping.”

 

“Sorry. He’ll have his phone off for the flight like Suga did.”

 

Suga shook his head. “He got on a plane. He just _got on a plane_. And you let him!”

 

“Yeah, well, Suga, you were on your way to the other side of the world and we had hijacked a police car, sabotaged a honeymoon, nearly murdered a desk attendant and _thoroughly_ pissed off airport security, when you put it in context it doesn’t seem much more stupid than anything else we did today.”

 

Suga swore under his breath. “I think you and I remember the last episode of _Friends_ very differently.”

 

“Speaking of which. You got off the plane.” Kenma’s words were almost lost as the taxi hurtled around the corner at breakneck speed. Hopefully not literally.

 

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for nineties sitcom references. You got me.” He frowned out of the window.

 

Kenma’s gaze was sympathetic. “You changed your mind.”

 

Suga sighed, scrunching up his face until his eyes slid shut. “Don’t start.”

 

“What? What would we start on?” Kuroo interrupted.

 

“I’m stupid. I’m weak. People out there need me, people I promised to help. And I’m running away from them because of my own-”

 

“What?! Suga, oh my God.” Kuroo shook his head. “You’re an idiot. The only reason you were leaving was out of some stupid imaginary obligation? You _love_ him. You shouldn’t have to give that up for anything.”

 

Suga fell silent. He let out a long sigh. “You’re right. I’ve made such a mess of this. I’ve ruined everything.”

 

Kenma smiled. “Not yet you haven’t.” He pointed out of the window, where the familiar outline of the airport drop-off point was looming into view.

 

Suga straightened. “Do I have much time?”

 

“No idea,” Kuroo replied, undoing his seatbelt. “Better sprint like there’s no tomorrow. It would feel wrong doing it any other way.”

 

The doors to the taxi flew open, and together, they began to run.

 

***

 

If Akaashi Keiji had ever worked a more entertaining shift, he couldn’t remember it. “Another of the same?” he asked flatly as a very familiar figure approached his desk for the second time that day, two strangers in tow.

 

“No. God no, we are not doing this again.” The man with the messy hair looked ready to start a fight, not purchase a ticket.

 

“Then how else can I assist you, sir?” Akaashi tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He really did.

 

Kuroo – if Akaashi remembered correctly – placed his hands flat on Akaashi’s desk. “This is Suga.” He nodded to the flustered grey-haired man beside him. After a blank stare, he elaborated. “The guy my buddy was chasing after.”

 

“Ah. Congratulations.” Akaashi scanned the man up and down. “He got off the plane.”

 

“Okay, first of all, the next person to use that line is getting their head shoved through a window, secondly…” Kuroo paused, inhaling heavily. “Yes, he got off the damn plane. But my friend Daichi does not know this. My friend Daichi is about to get _on_ a plane. With the ticket you sold him. To go after him.”

 

“Ah.” Akaashi allowed an eyebrow to slide upwards. “You want a ticket so you can go and stop him?”

 

“I have a better proposition.” Kuroo leaned forwards. “And unless you want to see a grown man have a breakdown in an airport, I think you’ll help.”

 

Akaashi listened. And, because (although he’d never admit it) Akaashi was a sucker for romance, he agreed to help.

 

Which was lucky, because their time was almost up.

 

***

 

Daichi waited in the seat opposite the gate, knees jiggling as he waited for the _Now Boarding_ sign to flash alongside his flight number. Was he terrified? Yes. Was this reckless, unplanned, unsafe, unexpected trip the maddest idea he’d ever had? Also yes.

 

But was he going to turn back? No.

 

He had come too far. He couldn’t give up now. He couldn’t give up on Suga.

 

He was so deep in his thoughts that his eyes glazed over, causing him to blank for several moments the flashing announcement he had been waiting for. But as soon as the message made it to his mind he was on his feet, joining the long line of strangers in business suits preparing for the long flight ahead.

 

He was at the head of the line when the tolling bells signalling a tannoy announcement rang out across the airport. This, in itself, was not unusual. But it was the voice which followed that stopped him in his tracks.

 

“Sawamura Daichi. Call for Sawamura Daichi. Do not board, I repeat, do not board.” The voice was breathless, wavering, overwhelmingly familiar. “Sawamura Daichi, please return to check-in. Please return to check-in, _urgently_.” The beautiful, impossible voice repeated its message once more before another chime signalled the end of the message.

 

The air hostess before him regarded him with concerned eyes covered by a fixed grin. “Sir?”

 

“I have to…” Daichi gasped, trying to force the air back into his lungs. “I have to go.”

 

He turned and began to run.

 

***

 

 They collided in the middle of a bustling airport, a split second of eye contact enough for every thought in Daichi’s head to scatter into nothing before Suga was in his arms, or he was in Suga’s, or both, for he would never be sure who had made the first move. Wide brown eyes, the ghost of a name upon his lips, and then they were holding on to each other as if they would never let go.

 

It wasn’t an unusual scene for an airport, even if it was the kind usually found in arrivals, not departures.

 

When his hands found Suga’s face his fingers roamed over damp cheeks and deep dimples, and a beauty spot which Daichi found himself kissing, over and over again until Suga’s breath came in wheezing giggles. He caught Daichi’s face in one hand, his other gripping his shoulder as though he would never let it go.

 

“Hey,” he whispered, cheeks turning a blotchy pink, beaming despite the tears trickling from his eyes.

 

“I have…” Daichi gasped, stammering as Suga’s forehead bumped and came to rest against his own. “I have so many things I want to tell you.”

 

“Oh, shut up, Sawamura.” Suga’s lips pressed against Daichi’s, warm and firm and perfect.

 

They were likely teetering on the brink of overdoing the PDA, but Daichi was ready to go on the record as officially unable to care less. He held on tightly and let the world dim to insignificance as Suga kissed him, the heat of the body pressed against his and the stuttering of his heart and the gentle scent of vanilla the only things left worth noticing.

 

They would talk, of course. They would sit together, Daichi with his coffee, Suga with his tea, on Daichi’s couch or in some hole-in-the-wall café or around Suga’s kitchen table, knees resting against each other and fingers entwined as they spoke. The truth would come out, all the little moments and secrets and the love and the lies told to themselves, to others, to _each_ other. They would tell each other everything.

 

But all that was to come later. For the moment, they held each other. They smiled. They cried. They kissed.

 

Kuroo, Kenma and Akaashi watched from a distance. None could hide a smile. It would be some time before the pair was ready to leave, but nobody was going to rush them.

 

It had been a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is!  
> I planned to write 3,000 words about a doctor and a teacher getting together; instead it took 90k. Once again: oops.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. Stay tuned for a little epilogue!


	28. The Last One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been one hell of a ride, guys

 

_Three Months Later_

 

… _so get yourself on that airplane, ‘cause it’s been far too long since you went away…_

 

Daichi flicked the raidio off, and the chirpy music cut out mid-lyric. Two suitcases stood by the door, bulging as they struggled to contain the clothes, books and paraphernalia crushed within.

 

A pair of arms slipped around his waist from behind, and Daichi jumped, smile breaking out across his face when he heard the voice behind him. “You ready?”

"Of course. The others?”

 

“Waiting for us there.” Suga pressed a kiss to the side of Daichi’s head. “What are you thinking about?”

 

“I’m thinking about how Kuroo’s going to kill my fish.”

 

Suga snorted against Daichi’s skin before turning him around, bringing his hands up to cup Daichi’s face. “They’ll be fine.”

 

Daichi smiled, leaned down, kissed Suga, melting into his arms as he did so. It was not an activity Daichi was going to tire of any time soon.

 

They passed Oikawa and Iwaizumi as they were lugging the suitcases down the stairs, because _of course_ the lift was broken again, exchanged the usual pleasantries (or thinly-veiled flirting in Suga and Oikawa’s case – a habit they had developed for the express purpose of teasing their respective partners) before climbing into the taxi which awaited them at the kerb.

 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this again so soon,” Daichi murmured as he yanked his seatbelt across his chest. Suga waited until Daichi had finished before taking his hand and squeezing it.

 

“At least we’re doing it right this time.”

 

“You can say that again.” Daichi tilted his head to one side. “For one thing, I’m not standing on the sidewalk all on my own waving you off.”

 

Suga nudged him playfully, and Daichi’s retaliation would have had them breaking into all-out war were it not for the taxi driver’s interruption. “Destination?”

 

“Airport, please,” they replied as one, before giggling at their synchronisation.

 

The cab driver rolled his eyes and pulled out into the light stream of traffic, and as their apartment complex disappeared from view behind him Daichi’s stomach flipped.

 

“Nervous?”

 

Daichi shook his head. “Excited.”

 

When they reached check-in, a familiar face greeted them with a sigh.

 

“You’re not allowed to hijack the tannoy system again, if that’s what you’re after.” Akaashi sighed as he scanned their boarding passes. “And please, promise me you’ll keep the drama to a minimum this time.”

 

“We promise,” Suga replied, eyes twinkling.

 

“Speak for yourself,” interrupted a voice from behind them.

 

“Noya! Asahi! I didn’t think you guys could make it!”

 

“Tadeka let us go early,” Asahi explained as Suga pulled the pair of them into a bone-crushing hug. “I guess he knew we wanted to be here for you.”

 

“Bless.” Suga released them at last, and it took a few seconds for the blood to return to their faces.   

 

“Where are the others?” Noya asked, grabbing Daichi’s arm as he rocked from foot to foot, the gold ring on his left hand ring finger glinting in the light. “Don’t want to miss the big ol’ send off!”

 

“Waiting near security, apparently. Everyone else beat us here.”

 

"Then what are we waiting for?" Before anyone could get a word in edgeways, Noya took off like a cannonball, pulling Daichi along in tow. Asahi and Suga followed, laughing, and from behind his desk the corner of Akaashi’s mouth twitched upwards.

 

Kuroo near-bowled Daichi over when he caught sight of the group heading their way.

 

“Kuroo, jeez, are you trying to break me?” Daichi snorted into Kuroo’s shoulder.

 

“Obviously,” Kuroo replied, straightening up in time for Daichi to catch sight of his crooked grin. “I figured it was time we gave your other leg a go being broken.”

 

“Boys,” Suga began in a warning tone. “Play nice.”

 

Kenma nudged the hand-knitted muffler down under his chin, clearing his throat as he did so. “Tanaka’s talking to some of the security guards, he’ll be back in a minute.”

 

“Oh Christ.” Asahi shook his head. “I’ll go grab him. Before, y’know, he causes some kind of security incident.” He hurried off, Noya following eagerly behind.

 

Daichi and Suga chuckled, before turning back to Kuroo and Kenma. Kuroo’s gaze was serious. “Don’t have _too_ much fun without us, okay?”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

“As soon as you set yourself up somewhere I want a spare copy of your door key.”

 

“What, you’re still going to break into my place when I’m on the other side of the world?”

 

“You better believe it,” Kuroo snickered. “A year in Mumbai is a long time. You’re getting visitors whether you like it or not. And you better believe we’re going to turn up unannounced, probably in the dead of night, and with a billion relationship issues we need you to help us hash out.”

 

“Is that so?” Daichi asked, directing his question at Kenma.

 

“I’m learning how to defuse burglar alarms just for this,” Kenma replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

 

Suga patted Daichi’s back. “It would be our pleasure.”

 

Daichi couldn’t quite bring himself to disagree.

 

Tanaka bounded into view, Noya and Asahi rushing after him. "You guys!" He threw his arms around Daichi and Suga’s necks, pulling them both into a headlock. “I’m gonna miss you both like crazy!”

 

"We’ll miss you too, Tanaka,” Suga wheezed, windpipe crushed under Tanaka’s grip. “But you’re going to suffocate us before we have the chance to go anywhere!”

 

"Aw yeah, that reminds me. I was chattin’ with the guards because I couldn’t find your flight on the board. You want the good news or the bad news?”

 

“Bad,” Daichi replied at the same moment that Suga replied, “Good!”

 

“Good news is, you’re going to get some exercise in before your flight!”

 

“And the bad news?” Daichi asked, teeth clenched.

 

“Your flight takes off in,” he paused to look at his wristwatch, “three minutes.”

 

Suga yelped.

 

“Well, shit.” Kuroo shook his head. “As if any of us could ever visit this airport without some sort of last-minute-dash involved.”

 

“Just kidding.” Tanaka beamed. “It’s not for half an hour.”

 

Noya bust out laughing, bent over with laughter as he clutched his stomach. "Your _faces_."

 

Suga patted Tanaka on the head. “We’ll get you for that.”

 

There was enough time for a last round of hugs, and as much as it hurt to say goodbye, Daichi comforted himself with thoughts of the year ahead of them. Suga, taking another year to work with Doctors Without Borders, and Daichi, signing up to an education exchange programme that would have him teaching in the same area.

 

It wasn’t the same job as the one Suga had been offered. There was no pay-rise, no permanent position, and no plans for progression or continuation past the end of the year. Yet as far as Suga was concerned, it didn’t make any difference. He was doing what he loved the most. The only difference was that this time, the man he loved could come with him.

 

Daichi shook hands and exchanged goodbyes and was pulled into so many hugs they all blurred together. As he and Suga passed through security together he looked back over his shoulder one last time. There they all stood, Kuroo, Kenma, Asahi, Noya, and Tanaka, all waving like there was no tomorrow. Noya was perched on Asahi’s shoulders, openly sobbing despite the huge grin on his face, while Tanaka was lying face-down on the floor. Kuroo was wiping at his eyes while Kenma continued to waggle his fingers, vaguely embarrassed by the display surrounding him.

 

“We’ll be back,” Suga stood beside him, taking Daichi’s hand in his. “And it won’t feel like any time at all.”

 

Daichi shook his head. “How _will_ they survive without us?”

 

“Wrong question.” Suga stood on his tiptoes, pulling Daichi in close. “How will _we_ survive without _them_?”

 

Daichi smiled. He wrapped his arms around Suga and pressed their lips together, long, slow and warm. The answer was ready on his tongue the moment they paused for breath. “Together.”

 

“Together,” Suga agreed.

 

They waved back, hollered one last goodbye, and, hand in hand, they turned forward to face the future together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thank you to my friends who always encouraged me and were endlessly patient with my slow ass.  
> Massive thank you to the commenters who made it all worthwhile.  
> And the biggest thank you to everyone who read this and stuck with me through the angsty, the insane and everything inbetween.
> 
> Love you guys.
> 
> Sincerely,   
> Blue.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please please please leave feedback!


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